Let it Burn
by Kittenshift17
Summary: When Ron finally moves on from Hermione, she is free to pursue the man she's been fascinated by since fourth year. Transferring to Romania to work alongside Charlie Weasley in Dragonsmeade, Hermione is in for a learning curve regarding three things. The true heat of dragon fire, the burning hatred of a lover scorned, and the slow, smouldering incineration of a man's love.
1. Chapter 1: Fire-Whiskey

**A/N: Another acorn I've had squirrelled away for a while now. I hope you like it. xx-Kitten.**

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 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 1: Fire-Whiskey**

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The first time she'd really seen him had been in fourth year when he'd come to Hogwarts as part of the party escorting the dragons needed for the first Triwizard Tournament task. He'd been racing around the side of a cage containing an irate Chinese Fireball, almost getting himself roasted in the process and looking like he was having the time of his life. Everyone else had been shouting and yelling, barking out orders and trying to calm the furious beast who'd been parted from her eggs and hauled halfway across the world.

Not him. He'd been laughing. His long red hair had come loose of its ponytail, the dragon-fang earring that hung from his right ear – to match the identical one his elder brother wore in his left ear – swung wildly and he'd been dressed in protective leather Dragon Tamer gear that made him look like he hadn't a care in the world.

She remembered watching him then and feeling a little awed. He was older than her. Confident in his job as a Dragon Tamer and having the time of his life as he laughed and tried to sweet-talk an egg-crazed Chinese Fireball into not roasting him to a crisp. It had been clear to her in a heartbeat that he wasn't the type of boy who shied away from danger or took warnings to heart. He was a true Gryffindor. Reckless. Daring. And willing to do just about anything that looked like it might be fun, even if it was a truly terrible idea.

When she'd been just fifteen years old, Charlie Weasley had looked the epitome of masculinity and, who was she kidding, he'd looked hot as hell doing it too. When she'd been introduced to him by a proud Ron and Ginny, Hermione had smiled widely and asked him about the burn scar she'd spotted across the top of his right forearm that he'd shaken her hand with. And he'd laughed when he'd told her about it. He'd been wild-eyed in a way that she'd never seen anyone else look before.

Not in any way that made him look insane or terrified. No, Charlie had such an intensity to him that it had taken her breath away. She remembered the number of times she'd accompanied Ron and Ginny into Charlie's presence when he'd been working with the dragons at the school in her fourth year, looking on in admiration and more than a little lust with the intense Dragon Tamer.

She hadn't seen him for a few years after fourth year. He'd been working for the Order and recruiting in Romania through most of that time and so hadn't been able to get home during the times when she'd been at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place. Indeed, the next time Hermione had seen Charlie Weasley had been at Bill and Fleur's wedding, where he'd been best-man to Bill and had been annoyed most of the evening thanks to Molly forcibly insisting he cut his hair brutally short. At the time, Hermione remembered thinking that he looked like she imagined dragon-fire would feel. Sinfully hot and smouldering with raw, coiled power. Even with the loathed haircut, he'd looked like he'd been made for rough-housing with wild beasts and like he'd have no trouble wrestling one petite witch into bed with him.

Merlin, back then the intensity of his gaze and a well-placed request would have been enough to get her into bed with him.

Six years and a war hadn't changed that fact. She watched him over the rim of her glass where he drank with his colleagues at the only bar onsite at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary in Dragonsmeade, laughing and joking as they drank away their Sunday evening. He was like a dragon himself, Hermione thought; a dangerous, unpredictable beast as likely to turn on her and roast her alive as he was to allow her to get close. Yet so intriguing, so intense and so breathtaking that she wanted to get close and feel just how much fire he had inside of him.

She wanted to be close enough to run her fingers through that red hair he'd grown long again since his brother's wedding. It hung almost-straight and gleaming in the firelight of the bar, tied by a leather throng that was coming undone and unleashing those fiery strands. The warm summer air had seen him donning a sleeveless leather tunic, revealing the number of burns, scars and dragon tattoos that littered his arms and shoulders. She wanted to be close enough to toy with the dragon-fang earring that hung from his right earlobe – an accessory, she'd been told, he and Bill had each donned when he'd been on a Dragon Hunt in Egypt three years into his Dragon Tamer career.

She didn't know all the details but she knew the earrings involved a dragon hunt gone wrong, an Egyptian princess and enough fire-whiskey to kill almost anything. They'd taken some kind of pact to keep their secret and protect one another and Hermione knew each brother wore the earring proudly, despite their mother's griping about it whenever they were in England with the rest of the family.

The hair and the earring only made him look more dangerous in Hermione's opinion. More unpredictable. More like a dragon himself. He wore those burns and scars like badges of honour. He didn't try to hide them and Hermione doubted he'd ever allowed a medi-witch to treat them with dittany or any other potion that might take those scars away. He'd told her once that he'd earned every single one of his scars when he touched the fire and the way he'd said it made her think it meant so much more than simply being burned. As though he believed that the marks were truly something to be proud over. The way he'd said he'd 'touched the fire' had made her shiver when she'd been fifteen and naïve.

At twenty-four, Hermione had more of an idea about the types of heat and the types of fire the world had on offer and she got the feeling that Charlie Weasley lived to touch them all. The burn of a good strong whiskey. The fire of a woman's flesh under his hands or his tongue. The fierce burning need to run his fingers over dragon scales despite the danger.

When she'd met him for the second time at the wedding, Hermione had been just seventeen and in love with his younger brother; but even then she'd been aware that Charlie Weasley was the embodiment of everything she wanted. His body was long and lean, coiled with wiry muscle. There was something about the way he held himself that made him look dangerous, like a coiled spring just waiting to snap free. A dragon waiting to lunge at an unsuspecting victim, bathing them in his fire and sinking his fangs into their flesh.

His friends and colleagues were dressed much the same way and were similarly scarred and tattooed, but there was something about Charlie that held her attention over the others. She couldn't describe it. Not really. All she knew was that every time she looked at him, she felt like he'd lit a fire in her belly and seared her with the heat he seemed to give off in waves. It was like he started an inferno in her blood and Hermione couldn't deny the craving that burned through her.

She wanted him.

She'd wanted him for a long time. He'd asked her to dance at Bill and Fleur's wedding and Hermione was ashamed to say she'd been a little too eager to say yes. Too eager for the girl who was supposed to be in love with his brother, anyway. There was just something about him that stood out.

Maybe it was the scars and tattoos. Maybe it was those wild brown eyes that looked at life like it were a wild dragon he wanted to take on. Maybe it was the way, when she'd asked him about his work, he'd lit up. The smoulder he exhibited in general had burned brighter than the sun and hotter than dragonfire ever could. Hermione was sure she'd never met anyone so passionate about anything in all her life.

He lived for the dragons he tamed. He lived for the thrill of the hunt when they went out to capture a beast terrorising a town or wounded in battle and needing attention. He lived for the adrenaline rush of touching a live dragon. He lived a life Hermione had never imagined anyone could.

She herself knew a thing or two about adrenaline. More than once in her life as the best friend of Harry Potter, Hermione had enjoyed the thrill of being inches from death. She knew what it was to fly by the seat of her pants, deep in the heart of danger with no clue of how they were going to make it out alive. But that didn't compare to the life Charlie lived. He played with the world's most dangerous beasts for fun. He tamed them. He captured them and cared for them.

He intrigued her.

Hermione threw back her shot of fire-whiskey and waved her glass at the bartender, silently requesting another. She was working up the courage to go over and talk to Charlie. She'd seen him many times since seeing him at the wedding. During the war and in the aftermath of it, Charlie had been at the Burrow through it all. He'd helped to pull them all back together after Fred's death. He'd fixed his mother cups of tea when she would sink into her despair and cry.

He'd grip his father's shoulder tight and stand steadfast and strong when being so strong for his family wore Arthur down. He'd send Bill home to Fleur, insisting the man shag his wife and pull his life back together, trying to sweet-talk Bill into giving their mother a grandchild to fuss over that would better take her mind off her dead son. He'd drink with George until the tears would start and then he'd hold the bereft twin to him in a tight embrace, laughing and joking with him, whispering in his brother's ear about the things Fred would be doing in the after-life and the mischief he'd be making on the other side.

When the drinking got too much he'd snatch the bottle away from George and ensure he didn't drink himself into the afterlife to be with his brother. He'd encouraged Ron to follow his dreams of being an Auror when the Ministry had made the offer for Harry and Ron to begin their training. He'd even sat and had a frank discussion with Hermione about whether she should take the Ministry up on their offer as well or if there was something else she wanted to do, encouraging her to go back to school and finish her NEWTs when she'd said that was what she wanted.

He had pulled Percy out of his guilt and his grief over Fred's loss, sparking intellectual debates with his younger brother that would rile Percy up and make him forget for a little while what a ponce he'd been to the rest of the family during the war. And then there'd been Ginny. Ginny was more like Charlie than any of her other brothers and she'd taken up the stead of Weasley matriarch when Molly broke down. But even she had needed to lean on her elder brother sometimes and Charlie had grinned his way through her worries over whether or not she and Harry would last as a couple while she finished school and whether the family would cope with her being away at Hogwarts so soon after their loss.

He'd done it all. He'd pulled them all back together and he'd taken almost a year off his work and his pursuit of all things dragon-related to fix his family as best he knew how.

And every day he'd been there, Hermione had watched his restlessness grow. He might've been hurting along with the rest of them, but Hermione had known how Charlie Weasley needed to grieve the death of his younger brother and his oldest school friend. It wasn't by sipping tea and consoling his distraught mother or distracting his father with muggle gadgets. It wasn't by drinking too much with his brothers.

He'd needed to grip life by the teeth and roar at it like he was a dragon himself. Hermione had known long before he announced his departure that he would be returning to Romania and the dragons of the colony here. She'd known he'd never be able to give up their allure. And for a time that had been fine. She'd hugged him goodbye along with the rest of the family and she'd tried to forget the way he'd made her burn for him.

She'd tried dousing the ache between her legs by distracting herself with Ron. She'd tried to make herself as interested in Ron as she'd been before interacting with his elder brother. And she'd done everything in her power to make sure Ron never knew their break-up had been a result of the fact that she'd wanted Charlie far more than she'd ever wanted Ron himself.

Hermione had gone about her life until now. She'd finished her final year of school following the war. She'd gotten herself an internship with the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures office. She'd worked her way through the ranks there until she'd landed herself a job in the Dragonolist department and she'd stuck it out until they'd finally told her that she was being given the chance to train with the beasts and learn about them in the colonies in Romania – the largest Dragon Sanctuary in all of wizarding history.

Indeed, she'd even waited until things with Ron were well and truly over – until Ron was engaged to another woman – before she'd even thought about allowing herself the chance to come to Romania.

What she hadn't done, was tell Charlie she was coming. Harry knew. Ginny knew. Even Ron knew she'd been given the chance to come to Romania. She'd told her family and friends that she'd been promoted and given a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn about magical creatures and her chosen field of study. They knew she was coming to Romania. They knew she would be living here for the next year. Ministry sponsored as part of her training, Hermione knew the DRCMC was expecting big things out of her and wanted to make sure she was fully prepared and properly experienced before they would think about promoting her again.

If she was being honest, Hermione knew her skills and her interests lay in the scientific research field, pertaining – in particular, to dragon breeding, dragon anatomy and a means for the dragon populations of the world to grow once more. There had been a rapid decrease in the number of dragons currently within the world and Hermione knew that her department was pinning their hopes on her analytical skills in order to come up with a reason for it and suggestions for ways to make sure the numbers improved.

But she hadn't told Charlie she was coming.

She hadn't wanted him to think she'd come because of him. In fact, she'd been entertaining notions of pretending she'd forgotten he worked in these colonies in this particular part of Romania. Of course, that idea had been dismissed as quickly as it had occurred to her. She'd been thinking instead that it might be more prudent to show up tomorrow morning at the sanctuary and 'surprise' Charlie whilst having the legitimate fact of her being there for work as a buffer to keep him from knowing the truth.

She couldn't tell him she'd been hot for him since she was seventeen. She couldn't just saunter over there, straddle him and demand he fuck her until the fire between her legs that he'd lit six years ago consumed them both. Maybe firewhiskey wasn't the best idea when it came to avoiding _that_ idea.

Hermione threw back the next shot, relishing the taste of the fiery amber liquid and the way it made her insides hotter than fire as it went down. She'd fallen in love with the alcohol when she'd discovered its singular ability to make the rest of her as hot as the place between her legs whenever she thought of Charlie.

"Another?" the bartender asked, watching her with intrigued eyes as she downed the liquor in one.

Hermione knew she shouldn't do it. She had to work in the morning. With dragons, no less.

"Yes, please," she sighed, her gaze straying once more to Charlie where he was drinking with his colleagues.

He looked relaxed and comfortable around them, but Hermione couldn't deny that there still looked to be that coiled hunger in his pose and in his eyes. She'd seen it before he returned to Romania. At the time, Hermione had assumed it was the look of a man used to living dangerously who craves that next rush of adrenaline. But he still had it. He'd spent almost a year at home trying to help pull his family back together and he still came home for the holidays when he could.

Yet he still had that hungry look about him as though there was something he was burning for that he didn't seem to be finding, even here among his friends, his colleagues and his dragons.

"Are you new around here, love?" the bartender asked, topping up her glass.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, transferring her gaze to the grizzled looked man pouring her drinks when she felt a pulse of heat rock through her core from watching Charlie for too long, "The British Ministry sent me to receive my Dragonologist practical training and to study the beasts up close. I'm a researcher trying to find the solution to the population decreases we've seen over the past five years."

"That right?" the bartender grinned, "You know them boys, then? They'll likely be your trainers and your mentors while you're here. Best of the Tamers in the whole bloody sanctuary."

"I know," Hermione smiled softly, "I'm actually a family friend of Charlie's."

"Oh, you know Charlie?" he asked, "What are you doing sitting here drinking alone then? Get over there and talk to him."

Hermione sighed.

"He doesn't know I'm here yet," Hermione admitted to the man, downing her drink and holding her glass out as she waited for another.

"One way to fix that, love," he grinned at her, topping her glass up to the brim, "Go over and say hello, or I'm cutting you off."

Hermione narrowed her eyes on the man in annoyance but she paid him the money she owed him. She'd need more liquid courage if she was going to head over there and tell Charlie she was in his neck of the woods. Hells, she was going to need to shower in ice-water if she wanted to have any hope of keeping her wits and not tripping over her tongue or begging him to take her to bed.

Merlin, she hadn't be laid in more than a year and it was driving her spare. She'd tried. Things with Ron had fallen apart almost four years ago now and Hermione had dated other boys since then. She'd tried to forget the way Charlie could look when he was yearning for the heat of dragon-flames shooting past him, almost burning him alive. Hermione had dated others and she'd tried to think about anyone other than Charlie bloody Weasley when she let them take her to bed.

She'd tried to get them to inspire the fire in her that he'd ignited but none of them had even come close to stoking the flames.

Sighing, Hermione sipped her drink a little more sparingly before glancing down at herself. She'd arrived that morning and Hermione hadn't had a chance to change since then. She'd been busy getting settled in and unpacking her things in the cabin she'd been given to live in for the length of her stay. She wore black denim jeans, dragon-hide boots and a blue snug fitting scoop-neck t-shirt. It was warm enough out that she'd left her travelling cloak in her cabin before she'd come in search of food and a drink at the local pub.

And now she was sitting by herself spying on the man she'd been in serious lust with for six years rather than going over and greeting him like she ought given that they were family in all but name or blood. Shaking her head at herself for being such an idiot, it occurred to her that were their positions reversed, she'd have been annoyed with him for sitting across the bar rather than coming over and saying hello. That, more than anything else, inspired her to stop being such a coward.

Stalking across the bar like a woman on a mission, Hermione approached the table where Charlie and his buddies were all drinking. Like her, they'd already finished their meals and fallen simply to having a few drinks after a long day. One of his friends bore a fresh bandage over the newest burn on his bicep he'd obviously earned that day.

"Mind if I join you?" the words tumbled out of her mouth in a sultry purr she hadn't known she was capable of.

Seven faces turned to look at her and Hermione felt a little better about herself when at least four of them looked like they approved of the idea that she join them. Two of the group were other girls, also Tamers by the looks of their scars and Hermione caught the way one of them frowned at her slightly.

"Hermione?" Charlie's voice asked over the din of the crowded bar.

Hermione met his gaze carefully, tilting her glass to her lips and taking a drink as she looked at him. Those wild brown eyes clashed with hers and set fire to her very soul. Hermione nearly melted into a puddle right there. He didn't act the way any of the other Weasleys would have upon seeing her. They'd have all jumped up, shuffled awkwardly with the intent of hugging her, looked nervous and then hugged her anyway.

Charlie didn't leave his seat.

He just fixed her one of those smouldering gazes he had so perfected and Hermione was sure that her knickers were soaked. Gods, no one had the right to look at her like that. He looked at her like she were a wild dragon and he was assessing how best to tame her. Like she were some magnificent beast he wanted to smooth his hands over. She'd have been flattered if she hadn't learned that it was just the look he constantly wore. An expression of yearning and hunger combined with a cocky arrogance one could only gain when they lived life on the edge every single day and still survived.

"Miss me?" Hermione asked when Charlie didn't say anything else, just stared at her, clearly surprised to find her suddenly in his midst. She suspected he was having a 'two worlds collide' type moment given that his life in Romania so infrequently clashed with his life in England.

"You know this one, Charlie?" one of Charlie's friends asked, looking her up and down speculatively and clearly a bit worried by Charlie's surprised expression. For a man who didn't surprise easily, Hermione wondered if it was a good or bad thing that the sight of her had thrown him for a loop.

"I'm best friends with his youngest brother," Hermione offered her hand to the speaker, noting his wicked gaze. Indeed, he had the same look as Charlie. Dangerous. Arrogant. Sexy as hell. But he had nothing on the red-haired man she wanted to ravish until the fire inside her burned out.

"Jason Van Der Meene," the man smirked at her wickedly.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said in reply, noting as she spoke that one of the girls in the group eyed the scar across her forearm with distaste, clearly unsettled by the word 'Mudblood' where it had been slashed into her skin and scarred in wretched, raised purple lettering.

"Aw hell, you're the girl who helped Harry Potter end You-Know-Who's reign of terror, right?" Jason said, looking a little awed as she introduced herself. He shook her hand firmly and Hermione noticed that like Charlie, his hand bore calluses, blisters and a few scars from his work.

"Well…" Hermione blushed modestly at being addressed in such a manner. She'd almost forgotten that she was still technically famous for what she'd done during the war. The people she worked with and her friends at home didn't tend to think too much about the fame that came with what they'd done anymore, and she avoided the press constantly, so she'd forgotten what it could be like to meet someone for the first time and have them know of her past deeds.

"She is," Charlie nodded, speaking for her before he threw back the rest of the whiskey in his glass, draining it in three long gulps without taking his eyes off her.

"Hell, girl," Jason said, "You gotta tell me your stories. Oh, and since this ponce has forgotten his manners, these other gits are Greg, Sid, Harvey, Caroline and Amy."

He pointed to each person of the group in turn. Hermione noticed that it was Amy who glared at her scar and didn't look very thrilled by the sight of her joining them.

"It's wonderful to meet all of you," she said, smiling and trying to ignore Amy's frosty attitude as she shook hands with everyone and they all greeted her in turn.

"Well pull up a stool, love," Jason went on, before looking around, trying to locate an empty stool for her to sit one.

There weren't any. The bar was too packed and there was barely room to stand, let alone to sit down.

"Shit. Sid, be a gentleman, would you?" Jason nudged Sid – a blonde haired man who appeared to be missing an eyebrow and was currently the one bearing the bandage on his upper arm.

"Oh, don't," Hermione shook her head, "I'm happy to stand. Honestly, if I sit and drink much more, someone will have to carry me out of here and that would make a wretched first impression."

"You're Hermione Granger, what do you care about impressions?" Sid wanted to know, looking like the idea of her getting sloshed amused him immensely. Since he'd been drinking heavily all evening while Hermione had been watching them from across the bar, Hermione could only assume he was either a heavy drinker himself or he was trying to dull the pain of his most recent dragon-encounter related injuries.

"Yeah, screw first impression, let's get hammered! What brings you to Romania, Hermione?" Caroline asked and Hermione got the feeling that she at least seemed to like Hermione – or was trying to be nice, in any case. She smiled widely and raised her glass before downing the contents. Hermione noticed the rest of the group followed suit while waiting to hear Hermione's answer.

"Well, actually that's why I came over," Hermione admitted, slanting another glance at Charlie who was still watching her like she were something he was contemplating devouring, "I don't know if you guys would've been given the memo yet, but um… you're technically all my handlers as of tomorrow morning at seven o'clock."

"You're the researcher the British Ministry sent over?" Charlie asked, his eyes widening slightly at the idea, "You're studying Dragonology?"

Hermione nodded her head, her brow furrowing a little. She was sure she'd told Charlie she was interested in dragons. She had been certain they'd had more conversations about it than anything else they discussed while he'd been living at the Burrow six years ago. Had he paid so little attention that he didn't know she'd been studying magical creatures and working for the DRCMC for the past five years after graduating?

Hermione felt a small part of her shrivel up in rejection at the idea that she was clearly interested in a man who barely knew she was alive.

"Surprise," she murmured, noticing he looked more than a bit shocked.

"Right on," Jason said, clearly too inebriated already to notice the tension between Hermione and Charlie that was rapidly fizzing out of control, "So that means we're technically your bosses, right? Like, I get to give you orders and you have to follow them."

"Technically," Hermione nodded, taking another sip of her drink, "Unless you guys aren't the people who deal with trainees."

"Don't look at me," Greg held his hands up, "Admin doesn't trust me with newbs after what happened with Kendall Wilkes seven years ago."

"You let the poor girl climb into the cage of a Chinese Fireball that you knew was ornery and in heat, and you told her to try and take the beast's temperature. Without warning her that the bitch was in heat and without covering her arse. You're lucky you didn't get the bloody sack," Caroline scolded.

"Remind me not to take orders from you, Greg," Hermione said, alarmed by the story and not at all relishing the idea of being told what to do by someone who might get her killed.

"Don't worry, they warn you about me in the induction training tomorrow," Greg grinned back at her, "Who needs more drinks? Amy, come help me carry them. My shout. Hermione, you in?"

"Get her one," Jason piped up, "Hermione, as your superior, your first task is to skol that drink and have another one with us."

Hermione smiled at him in return, her gaze straying to Charlie again. She got the feeling that Amy didn't like her already, and that Greg was trying to get the woman away from Hermione before she could be stabbed with something sharp.

"I'm not supposed to take orders from you lot until tomorrow morning," Hermione informed him before drinking her drink anyway.

"What are you drinking?" Jason wanted to know.

"Fire-whiskey. Ray knows the one I like," Hermione waved her fingers towards the bartender – Ray – who had been pouring them for her all night.

"Already on a first name basis with the publican and not a shudder in sight whilst drinking straight fire-whiskey," Jason laughed, "I reckon you're trouble, Hermione Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed her empty glass to Greg where he was collecting them to take them back to the bar.

"With a capital T," Charlie mutter, "What are you doing here, Hermione? What about Ron?"

"Ron?" Hermione turned to him, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yeah, Ron. You know, my kid brother? The one my mother's been gushing to me for months now about him being engaged and how she's handling all the wedding preparation?" Charlie said, "You're moving to Romania to study for a year in the middle of your engagement?"

"My engagement?" Hermione asked blankly, blinking at him and wondering what he was talking about, "I'm not engaged. I've never been engaged."

"What?" Charlie frowned, "But you and Ron…"

Suddenly it all made sense and Hermione realised Charlie must pay even less attention to her comings and goings than she'd thought.

"Ron and I broke up four years ago, Charlie," Hermione told him, beginning to laugh out loud, "He's marrying a girl he met through his Auror training. Stacey Strasswick."

"Did I know Ron was even dating a Stacey?" Charlie asked blankly.

Hermione snorted.

"Did you not?" she asked, tilting her head to one side and wondering if he was already drunk if he was having such trouble recalling facts about his own family.

"I thought he was still dating you," Charlie admitted, his brow furrowing further when Hermione actually began to laugh.

"Me?" Hermione choked out, "Charlie, things between me and Ron ended four years ago. We haven't been a couple since I finished Hogwarts. He's since dated a string of other girls before settling on Stacey. They're engaged and set to be married at the end of the year."

"No one tells me anything," he declared, shaking his head, "Honestly, just because I live on a different continent doesn't mean I shouldn't be informed of everyone's comings and goings."

"Did you really not realise Ron and I were broken up all the times you've been home at Christmas and Ron's had other girls there as his dates?" Hermione asked, baffled.

"All those trollops were his girlfriends? I thought they were Ginny's Quidditch teammates or something," Charlie began to laugh, "And I suppose all those wankers I saw trailing after you were your flames?"

Hermione blushed at the mention of the fact that she'd always made sure, over the past five years, to bring a date with her to every Weasley event she knew that Charlie would be attending lest he see how hot she was for him.

"Dude, you've got to get your head out of the skies with the dragons," Jason told him, laughing at their conversation.

"Apparently," Charlie agreed, "But then what are you doing here? I though you told me you were an intern at the Ministry."

"I was," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "And then they promoted me to secretary. Then assistant to the assistant. Then assistant researcher. And now I'm here to specialise in dragons as my field-of-study research task before I'll be qualified as a Dragonolist."

"And you didn't owl me about this? Why did I not know you're into dragons too?" Charlie asked, his eyes were fixed on her and Hermione felt like squirming when he looked at her that way.

"You were too busy telling me stories about your work here for me to get a word in edgeways on the subject?" Hermione suggested

"Why didn't Mum tell me you were coming? You move into my neck of the woods and no one even Floo Calls me?" he told her and Hermione felt her blood bubble stickily with need when he reached for her, tugging her towards himself until she was standing between his legs. He had one foot propped up on the windowsill where they'd all been drinking, and he shuffled her around until she could sit on the windowsill there.

When she turned around she realised there were a bunch of guys behind her who'd just come over and joined the table, jostling themselves in as well and he was only moving her out of their way.

Hermione hated herself a little for the thrill that raced through her despite those facts, simply because she was pressed so close to him, literally standing between his knees and well within his personal space

"She erm… didn't really know about it," Hermione admitted, holding his gaze.

"You didn't tell my parents you were up and moving to Romania for work?" Charlie asked, raising his eyebrows as though the idea shocked him immensely.

Hermione shook her head, "She's been a bit… ah… distracted lately."

"So distracted that the girl she essentially adopted when you were twelve can leave the country for a prolonged period without telling her?" Charlie wanted to know, his brow furrowing.

Hermione noticed idly that he'd hooked his thumb through the belt-loop on the back of her jeans, holding her in place as he stared into her face. He looked a bit worried that his mother didn't know she was in Romania. That she'd thought the woman too busy to even mention it to her that she was moving to Romania with Charlie for a year at the very least.

"Well, with Ginny pregnant and Ron announcing his engagement to Stacey, there wasn't exactly much thought space left over for her to focus on the fact that I'll be here for a year," Hermione admitted quietly, looking at her feet for a moment, "She's been so busy. I mean, Ginny's going to pop within the month and even though she already has three grandchildren, Molly's been running around like crazy, because, you know, it's a her little girl."

Hermione nibbled her bottom lip.

"And then Ron went and announced his engagement, but no one's actually had the heart to tell Ginny because Ginny _hates_ Stacey and they're worried she'll go into labour prematurely or simply grow homicidal to learn she's getting Stacey for a sister in law. I told your Dad I was coming over here for work, and the rest of them all know, of course, since I had to say goodbye and everything. But your Dad was a bit distracted by the new drill set Harry got him for his birthday and well, I didn't have the heart to tell Molly. She's so stressed as it is that I didn't want to worry her."

She didn't want to admit that Molly had been a bit less invested in her since she and Ron had called things quits. Oh, the woman still doted on her like they were actually mother and daughter, but the more boys Hermione had dated after Ron, the rockier things between her and Molly had become. When Hermione had gotten her tattoo and Molly had spotted it, the woman had pitched a fit at her, demanding to know what she was doing with her life and how she thought she'd find a decent man if she was disfiguring herself.

She didn't seem to have quite forgiven the idea that Hermione wouldn't be a Weasley by marriage when things with Ron had ended and though she and Ron had long since buried the hatchet, Molly still got funny about it sometimes. Hermione tended not to tell the woman when she had a new date unless she was bringing that date to the Burrow for a gathering. Having grandchildren kept Molly busy enough anyway and Hermione had been worried that telling her she was moving to Romania would stress Molly too much. She'd never liked the idea of Hermione in such a dangerous field of work.

"You don't think she'll worry when she tries to invite you around for Sunday lunch and finds your flat empty?" Charlie asked her, shaking his head a little.

"Everyone else knows," Hermione admitted, feeling bad, "And when she realises she didn't know, she'll assume I told her and that she'd been too busy and forgotten. I all but told her anyway… just, without the actual 'by the way, I'm moving to Romania to study dragons for a year' words coming out of my mouth. She, uh… doesn't approve of my chosen career."

Charlie threw his head back and began to laugh at her words. He knew better than anyone how his mother felt about dangerous careers and taking needless risks.

"She'd have never let you out of the house if she knew you were coming here," he chuckled.

"I know," Hermione smiled, "So I told her without telling her and she'll think it just slipped her mind. She'll be a bit upset with me, but she'll be so distracted with Ginny's labour that by the time she gets around to noticing I've left the country, it'll be too late for me to pull out of the program when she inevitably guilt-trips me into finding a less dangerous career path more suited to a young lady."

"She gave you that speech, eh?" Charlie smirked her.

"Ginny got the same one when she signed with the Harpies," Hermione nodded, "You know she doesn't like the idea of women having dangerous or powerful careers because they're harder to give up to raise children."

"You should have heard the way she used to scold Tonks about being an Auror," Charlie nodded, "Every time Tonks came round before I moved over here, the woman gave poor Tonks hell about her job. I reckon she was grateful when I moved away so she didn't have to hang out with me as much anymore."

Hermione laughed at the idea.

"Ginny blows raspberries at Molly every time she tries to talk Ginny out of going back to work once the baby comes," Hermione told him.

"I bet she does. Bloody right too, she's still got plenty of Quidditch potential left in her. Just because Harry went and knocked her up doesn't mean she should give it up," Charlie nodded.

"Harry's all for her going back to work. He loves getting free tickets to all the games. Pretty sure he's planning on quitting the Auror department when Ginny's ready to play again," Hermione told him.

"What's he going to do instead?" Charlie asked.

"He and George have been talking about the idea of becoming business partners. They're thinking about opening a second store, possibly even growing the business to an international level. Everyone loves the joke-shop. It's not like Harry actually needs to work for money, and he loves being a Dad more than anything else."

"His kid's not even born yet," Charlie rolled his eyes.

"No, but he's been stealing Teddy from Andromeda every chance he gets. Andie's actually just agreed to move in with them at Harry place. They've got that second cottage on the grounds and Harry's been begging Andie to move in there since he got the place so he can see Teddy all the time."

"Takes being a godfather seriously, doesn't he?" Charlie smirked, nodding at the idea, "I reckon Tonks and Remus would've liked that. Dora was always big on family gatherings. She loved coming to the Burrow with me until Mum started nagging her about her job. Andie being cut off from her own family and Ted having so few relatives himself, I know she'd have loved having a big family. She always used to tell me she'd have as many kids as Mum one day."

Hermione smiled sadly at the thought that they'd only managed to have one beautiful little boy before Tonks and Remus had both been taken too soon from this world. Charlie sighed a little, a wistful expression crossing his face too at the reminder.

"Harry loves Teddy to death. He takes days off so often to spend time with the kid that the only reason they haven't fired him is because he's Harry bloody Potter," Hermione chuckled, "He's going to be a great Dad to your nephew, you know?"

"She's having a boy?" Charlie grinned again.

"It's not confirmed yet, they chose to let it be a surprise, but we've all been taking bets. I've got ten sickles on them having a boy," Hermione grinned nodding.

Charlie passed her drink to her when Greg and Amy returned carrying them all and Hermione realised with a jolt that they were being terribly rude as they caught up on family news whilst in the presence of everyone else.

"So, since when do you drink fire-whiskey anyway, Hermione?" Charlie asked, his thumb still hooked through her belt loop, his hand resting intimately against her hip where she sat so close to him.

"Since Bill's wedding," Hermione admitted, blushing a little.

"Is that right?" he grinned wickedly, "Bloody hell, woman, I feel like I don't even know you. I'm kind of pissed you didn't tell me you were coming. When did you get here?"

"This morning," Hermione told him, "I've been unpacking all day and ventured out when I got hungry."

"You should've told me! I could've helped you settle in," he admonished her, "How long have you been here, anyway? I reckon you've had more than one of those."

He nodded to her glass of fire-whiskey as she sipped from it.

"Am I slurring?" Hermione asked.

"No," he shook his head, "But your cheeks are flushed pink."

"Maybe she's uncomfortable sitting on your lap, Weasley," Amy sneered quietly and Hermione glanced over at her.

Charlie raised one eyebrow at Hermione questioningly over the suggestion and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Takes more than limited bar-space to make me uncomfortable, Charlie," Hermione assured him, "You know that."

"I seem to recall you sharing a bed with Harry and Ron for the length of time you were on the run from the Ministry. I reckon if you can spoon with that pair of ponces, you can handle anything," Charlie winked at her

"The snoring was _so_ bad," Hermione immediately grinned, "The number of times I nearly smothered the pair of them is unbelievable."

"I know. I used to hear Ron when I was at home. I reckon they compete in their sleep to see who can snore loudest. My room's a floor away from his at the Burrow and I nearly hexed the pair of them. I had to put Silencing charms on my room every night to get any sleep."

"No wonder you moved in with Bill for a bit," Hermione laughed.

"He was worse. Honestly, I don't know how Fleur puts up with him. I had to move back here just to get a decent night's sleep," Charlie laughed.

"So tell us about yourself, Hermione?" Jason piped up, clearly growing tired of listening to them catch up with one another, "How long have you been interested in dragons."

"Since my first year at Hogwarts," Hermione replied immediately, "A friend, Hagrid, hatched a Norwedgian Ridgeback egg in his cabin on the grounds."

"Norberta?" Sid asked, swivelling to look at her suddenly.

"Yeah," Charlie nodded, "Hermione was one of the ones who helped smuggle Norberta to the roof so we could pick her up."

"You were one of the ones with Charlie who picked her up?" Hermione chuckled smiling at Sid.

"Hell yeah," Sid nodded, "Took us days to smuggle her past international security to bring her home. You smuggled that monster out of the school as a first year?"

"I didn't have much of a choice. Hagrid's a friend, and he'd have been in big trouble if he'd been caught with a baby dragon and no licence. Ron – Charlie's brother – suggested the sanctuary," Hermione grinned.

"How the hell did you get her through the school without alerting the teachers?" Caroline wanted to know.

"Well, that was tricky," Hermione admitted, "We weren't expecting she'd grow quiet so fast in the time it took to organise having you lot pick her up. Hagrid's hut nearly burned down at least twenty times a day and she grew so fast! At first we thought it would be fine. She was no bigger than a puppy when she hatched, but she was longer than a broom by the time you guys arrived. Fitting her under Harry's Invisibility Cloak was a nightmare. I don't know what charms are on that thing, but it's lucky they are or it'd have been charred to a crisp before we even left the hut."

"And you've been interested in dragons since then?" Greg asked

"I'm muggleborn and had just learned that not only do dragons exist, but that people work with them, tame them, train them, and breed them like… I don't know, race-horses. I'm honestly surprised that I didn't end up here before now," Hermione admitted, not mentioning her crush on Charlie or the fact that though she did indeed adore dragons, she might not be studying them abroad if Charlie weren't there.

"I'll bet," Caroline laughed, "You would've been at school when we brought over the four breeders for the Triwzard tournament too, right?"

"I thought you looked familiar," Hermione snapped her fingers and pointed at the woman, "You were one of the others handling the dragons when Ron and Ginny couldn't contain their excitement to see their big brother and we all snuck into the forest."

"Pretty sure they just wanted to see the dragons," Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Who doesn't always want to see dragons?" Hermione retorted, "But they were pretty stoked to see you too. Ginny went on for hours about your new tattoo and that scar."

She nodded to his left bicep where a nasty burn marred the flesh.

"That girl's always been too interested in danger for her own good," Charlie chuckled, "Ron would've crowed for hours about the dragons."

"He wouldn't shut up about it. You should've heard him, listing the breeds over and over again. He was still put out with Harry then too, you remember? So he was really worried about Harry having to face one of the beasts for the first task and agonising over how to tell him without forgiving him."

"Pair of gits," Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Which was your favourite?" Caroline wanted to know, drawing Hermione's attention again.

"Of the four for the tournament?" Hermione asked.

Caroline nodded.

"I'll give you three guesses," Hermione chuckled.

"The Horntail?" Jason guessed immediately, "Everyone loves the Horntails because they're so cranky."

Hermione shook her head.

"No, Harry faced the Horntail and to be honest, when she got loose and went after him, I kind of wished death on her for trying to eat my best friend. She was beautiful, of course, but she wasn't my favourite."

"The Fireball?" Sid asked, "Girls always like the Chinese Fireballs."

"Ah, now she was the right colour for my house affiliation at school. I loved how shiny and red her scales were," Hermione sighed, "But I was actually dating Viktor, the Durmstrang Champion who faced her in the first task at that point in time, so no. She was beautiful, but the Fireball wasn't my favourite."

Caroline eyed her speculatively, "Two guesses left… I want to say the Welsh Green because you're British, but I don't think I'd be correct. Your favourite was the Swedish Short-Snout."

Hermione grinned.

"What gave me away?" she asked.

"You're wearing blue," Caroline pointed out, "But you've got the look of a girl who doesn't pick dragons for their colour. You didn't pick the most exotic or most dangerous either. The Welsh Green – Artemis – is beautiful, but not as pretty as Delilah."

"Delilah?" Hermione asked.

"She's Charlie's girl," Caroline nodded, "Best breeder on the entire sanctuary, Delilah is. We reckon Weasley feeds her something special to make her come into heat so often."

Hermione turned towards Charlie, a smile on her lips. She'd known Charlie had been in charge of the Swedish Short-Snout during the tournament. It was one of the reasons she was so interested in him, actually. Hermione had watched the way the red-haired man before her had glowed like the sun when he looked upon the dragons in his care.

"Why Delilah?" he asked her, and Hermione could tell from the way he was watching her that he was interested in her answer. That he wanted to know what it was about the Swedish Short-Snout that had appealed to her over the aesthetics of the other three dragons.

Hermione felt her smile widen slowly. Her whole body felt like it was on fire as he fixed all of his intensity upon her, that smouldering fire of his personality stoked to hungry flames as they discussed his favourite topic in the world. She couldn't tell him she'd liked his dragon best because of him.

Closing her eyes, Hermione pictured the Swedish Short-Snout again in her mind.

"The eyes," she admitted quietly, opening her own eyes again slowly as she found the trait she'd best liked about the beast, "Most reptiles have cold eyes, but hers are like jewels. Even when she was so angry and trying to protect her nest, they glowed like sapphires. I could practically see the fire dancing in her eyes even before she opened her mouth and let out that blue stream of flame. It was like looking into the bluest sky or the deepest ocean and… seeing so much fire and so much life sparkling back. Like when you look at that blue right at the heart of a flame… they were just… mesmerizing."

As she lifted her gaze once more, glancing around the group at their sudden silence, Hermione found them all staring at her with knowing smiles on their faces.

"Hell, girl," Caroline chuckled, "You'll fit right in around these parts when you sweet-talk like that."

"To Hermione," Jason toasted, lifting his glass, "The only girl I've ever heard who can profess love for a dragon's gaze with as much fervour as Charlie Weasley."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, jostling slightly as Charlie shifted a bit to reach forward and toast with his friends.

"To Hermione," he agreed, his voice low and husky in her ears and making her thighs clench together subconsciously with desire.

She turned her gaze to him carefully and Hermione was sure that her yearning for him must be written all over her face. He looked at her like he'd just found something precious and pure. Something rare. Charlie looked at her right then as though she was some previously undiscovered breed of dragon he'd just run across and he couldn't wait to learn everything about her. He looked like he wanted to run his hands over her body, learning her dimensions, feeling her heat, stirring up the fire in her blood and in her heart.

He looked at her like he wanted to taste her fire. And Hermione was only too willing to let him.


	2. Chapter 2: Desire

**A/N: Merlin, I spoil you lot =) You were all so wonderfully sweet and so enthusiastic about the first chapter that I couldn't resist sharing this one with you as well. I hope you like it =) Happy Halloween! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Desire**

* * *

"Which cabin's yours, H'mione?" Charlie Weasley slurred at her several hours later when they'd all been kicked out of the pub for the night. It was nearing two in the morning and Hermione wasn't the only one more than a little bit tipsy.

"I don't remember," Hermione giggled, feeling very silly as she looked around trying to recognise her surroundings and figure out where she'd unpacked all her things. The cabins all looked identical to her. Made of stone – to protect against being destroyed every time a dragon got loose, she'd been told, they all housed one or two people to a cabin. Hermione had opted for one of the ones that she wouldn't have to share with anyone else. She'd outgrown the urge for roommates after being back at Hogwarts for her NEWT year and living in a tent with Ron and Harry the year before.

She liked to have her own space and she didn't like having to deal with the comings and goings of someone else cluttering up her space, cramping her style or complaining about her odd hours. She remembered dimly that she had tried to count the cabins between her place and the pub.

The entire village within the sanctuary was made up of similar cabins, a research centre, the dragon enclosures, a few shops, a post office and a grocery store. Hermione had actually been surprised by that. She'd expected researchers, keepers, dragon tamers, a few Ministry officials and the dragons but she hadn't been prepare for an entire village of people. All types seemed to loiter in the area. Traders who sold different dragon parts – raw materials like dragon's blood, dragon talons, scales, hide, snot, dung and eggs. Almost every part of a dragon could be used for other purposes within the wizarding world and as such, people pedalled them. Vendors who bought some of those raw materials and turned them into other things could also be found.

Stores selling dragon hide clothing, boots, gloves and vests; Apothecaries selling any potion that contained dragon bits. Even other vendors selling things that communities just generally needed. There was a quill shop and a place to buy books. There was a grocery store, a sweet shop, an ice-cream parlour and even a joke-shop – though it didn't look to be very popular. Hermione would have to remember to write to George and tell him there was an opening for a Wheezers store here in Dragonsmeade – as the village had so aptly been named.

One of the biggest buildings, however, was the hospital. Hermione could see it shining in the distant, lit up even now as people were treated for different things. Burns. Maulings. Bites and scratches from the dragons themselves. Spell damage. Common illnesses, aches and pains. Hermione knew that Dragonsmeade hosted the largest researched centre in the world for Dragon Pox studies as well as any number of labs dedicated to the actual study of the dragons themselves.

"You don't… well, shit," Charlie swore at the idea that she didn't remember where she lived, looking around blearily as well and trying to see past the end of his nose - something she doubted he could currently do. After their toast to her many hours earlier, the Tamers had taken to her well enough, though Amy still seemed frosty. They'd been drinking late into the night and Hermione had ended up in a round of shouts with them all, buying and downing drinks as fast as they could consume them.

She'd been 'inducted', as Jason had called it, and that meant she had to learn to drink as hard as she would learn to work. Caroline had informed her they all tended to drink most nights, especially if one of them was injured in the line of duty or something was off about the day. The only time drinking was out, she'd been told by a slurring Sid, was when they were on a hunt for dragons in the field that needed to be relocated to the sanctuary. Being hung-over and too slow off the mark could see a Dragon Tamer or her colleagues killed and as such, drinking was prohibited when they were hunting.

Charlie had rolled his eyes and told her they still tended to have a few, just not as many as to get plastered.

"I think it was five houses that way and then seven that way," Hermione offered, pointing in the vague direction of the dragon enclosures in the distance that made up the dragon hospital. She hadn't been given a tour yet, but she had learned that most of the dragons in the sanctuary were kept further afield in large, natural-habitat type enclosures. Only those that needed monitoring or medical attention were kept on hand at the hospital.

"Shit," Charlie cursed again, "Mine's closer. Come on."

Hermione laughed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his free hand grabbing her arm and pulling it around his waist. They stumbled as they walked together, Charlie more inebriated than Hermione ever remembered seeing him before.

"Wait, I think it's the other way," Hermione said, still trying to pinpoint where her own house might be and cursing to herself for being such an idiot and getting so drunk on her very first day.

This was not the way to make a good first impression.

"Who cares about impression?" Charlie scoffed, making Hermione realise she must be talking out loud, "You're H'mione Granger. You'll knock their socks off within the week."

"I don't want to know their socks off," Hermione replied, swaying and laughing when Charlie tripped over his own boots and nearly sent them both sprawling toward the ground, "I want to make sure I don't get kicked out before I find out why the dragons aren't breeding properly anymore."

He snorted and glanced sideways at her.

"That's why you're here?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Well, that and one other reason," Hermione retorted.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, a wicked smirk crawling across his face, "What's that?"

"Got to do my field-work to get myself qualified," Hermione replied before she could blurt out that she'd come because she wanted him to strip her naked and shag her until the place between her legs stopped tingling.

Charlie snorted again, swaying as he led her down a street with a broken street light and towards a cabin at the end of the row. The porch light was on, but Hermione didn't recognise it.

"This isn't my house," she protested.

"It's mine, idiot," he chuckled, "No way either of us is any shape to stumble around in the dark trying to find yours now. We'll Floo call your roommate inside."

He led her up the stairs and to the door, touching what she assumed to be a blood-ward on the door to gain entry.

"I don't have a roommate," Hermione told him as he tugged her through the door and into his cabin along with her.

"Well, shit," Charlie cursed again, releasing her to lean against the wall while he tried to pull his boots off his feet. Hermione couldn't help laughing when he lost his balance and fell on the floor.

In the morning, she was sure it would occur to her what idiots they were and how drunk they really must be that it occurred to them to Floo call a third party, but not to Floo from Charlie's cabin to hers. But right then, watching Charlie hit the floor with a groan and his right boot in his hand, it was the farthest thing from Hermione's mind. Leaning against the wall herself, Hermione jerked her own shoes off her feet, almost losing her balance in the process.

"Do you need help?" Hermione asked him when Charlie got his other boot off and sat on the floor for a minute simply watching her as she took her shoes off and stood them neatly next to his own messy pair.

"I think so," he admitted, holding both hands up to her.

Hermione took them, leaning back to keep her balance while she hauled on his arms and jerked him onto his feet.

"You're stronger than you look," Charlie told her, stumbling into her slightly when Hermione pulled too hard. She hadn't been expecting him to help very much as she pulled him to his feet and so had surprised both of them when she pulled so hard while he tried to bounce to his feet without pulling her over.

She found herself pressed back against the wall in the hallway leading to the kitchen, realising his cabin was laid out identically to hers. Charlie dropped her hands to catch himself against the wall, pressing his palms to the cool stones either side of her face.

"Oops," Hermione chuckled, finding humour in the moment even though she was currently closer to Charlie than she'd been in years.

All evening he'd kept her close to him. Indeed she'd spent most of the evening seated on the windowsill with one of his legs pressed against the window behind her back and the other knee brushing her legs while she sat, or her hips when she stood. For almost the entire evening he'd keep his fingers twisted through her belt-loops. She didn't know if he did it out of a need to touch her or an urge to warn away any of the other Dragon Tamers or the other people of Dragonsmeade that she'd met this evening, but Hermione couldn't say she minded.

"You alright?" he asked, grinning a little as she leaned against the wall.

"Yes," Hermione nodded her head, smiling in return, "Though I'm sure that in the morning, I won't think so."

"You still know how to make hangover potion, right?" he asked, "I seem to recall you making particularly potent Hangover cures that kept Mum from screaming at all of us for getting drink every other night with Georgie."

"I didn't bring any with me," Hermione admitted, "And I think trying to brew in this condition might be unsafe."

"I've got enough for tomorrow," he chuckled, "But if you're going to live here, you're going to need to handle your liquor or you're going to have to start brewing both of us those hangover potions you're so good at."

"I could be persuaded to brew them," Hermione grinned.

"Persuaded?" he smirked at her and Hermione wondered how she even still had knickers. If they weren't so damp with her neediness, she was certain they'd have gone up in flames from the heat of the throbbing, fiery place between her legs that begged to have Charlie touch her.

She didn't know what to say to his question without hitting on him. Honestly, her ego had taken enough blows tonight to learn he'd had no idea she wasn't still dating Ron, let alone interested in dragons like him. She wasn't about to put herself out there to be shot down. So instead, Hermione just smiled at him sweetly and did her very best to keep from arching into him where he leaned so close to her that she could probably count his eyelashes if the world wasn't spinning.

He grinned wickedly in return, tilting his head to one side ever so slightly.

"Did I mention that it's good to see you, Hermione?" he asked her, still peering at her and Hermione blinked.

"I don't think so. You were too busy trying to figure out if I'd run out on your brother," Hermione shook her head.

"Well," he shrugged, "Can you blame me? I don't exactly listen to every detail when Mum Floo calls me and goes on and on with updates of what everyone at home is doing. When she said Ron was engaged, I just figured he'd finally got his shit together and asked you to marry him. Been expecting it since you lot were still in school."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Never would have worked out," she shook her head, "Didn't work out. It was actually really awkward, felt kind of like I imagine snogging one's brother might feel."

Charlie snorted at her assessment.

"You still dated him a while."

"It was sort of… expected," Hermione admitted quietly, reflecting on the brief few months she and Ron had dated. She'd never slept with him, actually. She'd barely even snogged him. It had felt too strange.

"I'd disagree, but I expected you'd still marry him even though you broke up years ago," Charlie shrugged, "You want something to eat? I'm starving."

He pushed away from the wall, the intimacy of being so close and so drunk suddenly broken by the mention of the fact that she'd dated his brother. Hermione kicked herself for bringing Ron up at all.

"You're going to cook something?" she asked, pretending he hadn't just pressed her into the wall.

"Won't be so hungover if we eat something," he said over his shoulder, "Should probably shower too. I haven't yet today."

"Neither have I," Hermione sighed, "I can't believe I forgot where I live. I'm making a terrible debut into the world of living abroad."

"Don't worry about it," he laughed, "Grab a shower if you want, towels are in the cupboard in the bathroom. Ignore the mess."

"I don't have anything to put back on," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh. Right," he frowned for a second, ceasing his actions of pulling ingredients out of the fridge, "Hang on a minute."

He swayed down the hallway, and Hermione giggled as she heard him curse when he tripped over something on his way into his bedroom. She crept over to the bench where he'd been pulling out ingredients, trying to figure out what he planned to make. She smiled when she recognised the staples for Molly's usual midnight snack option. Grilled cheese sandwiches. While Charlie was distracted, Hermione continued making them.

She might have never been to his place before but if he was anything like his siblings and his mother… ah, Hermione grinned when she opened the corner cupboard and found his frypan before setting it on the stove and firing it up. She dropped butter into the pan, smearing the excess onto the toast before stacking thick layers of cheese over it and dropping the next layer of bread on top. She was giggling to herself as she made double-stacked grilled cheese, something she and Harry had discovered to be the tastiest things since grilled cheese. Another layer of cheese went on top of the middle slice of bread, followed by a third piece of bread.

She repeated the processes with another sandwich.

"Here you go, you can…." Charlie appeared back in the kitchen clutching a wad of clothing that he was offering her, stopping mid-sentence when he found her cooking them both grilled cheese sandwiches.

She'd also filled his kettle and put it over the heat to boil, intending to make them both cups of tea, knowing she was never as hungover if she had a cup of tea before going to sleep when she'd been drinking.

"You found everything?" he asked, coming closer as though he had forgotten she'd practically spent every summer since she'd been twelve living in his family home.

"You don't exactly deviate from the way Molly keeps her kitchen, Charlie," Hermione chuckled, "It wasn't hard."

"What are these?" he asked, peering over her shoulder to look at the double-decked grilled cheese sandwiches she was making.

"Double stacked," Hermione grinned at him, turning her head and almost bumping noses with him when she found him inside her personal space.

"Why have I never thought of that before now?" he asked, looking slightly awed.

"Harry's a genius when it comes to food," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "He put me onto them a few years back. But twice the cheese means it takes longer to melt. You've got time to shower if you want."

"You go, I'll do this," he grinned, "This is for you."

He handed her one of his jumpers to wear and Hermione took it without looking.

"Are you okay here?" she asked, "You're not going to stumble and burn yourself on the stove? You're pretty drunk."

Charlie scoffed at her, "At least I can remember where I live, Hermione. Go and get clean or you're not sleeping in my bed."

"You'd make me sleep on the floor if I didn't bathe?" she demanded, laughing.

"Too right, I would," he grinned, "So get. Burn myself on the stove, indeed. I'm a professional bloody Dragon Tamer, I think I can handle one little stove that's bolted to the floor."

He shook his head, pointing her out of the kitchen and Hermione laughed but did as she was told. She was much too drunk to protest the matter further before she sauntered off down the hallway and into the bathroom. She stripped out of her clothes quickly, amused that he'd told her to ignore the mess. Clearly he'd not spent much time living with Ron or Harry if he thought he was messy.

Folding her things quickly, Hermione dug a bath-towel out of the cupboard and set it on the bench along with Charlie's shirt before she turned on the taps and climbed under the hot spray of the shower. She almost groaned at how good it felt as she bathed quickly. She didn't worry about washing her hair. It would take too long for it to dry and she'd done it yesterday before moving. Making use of Charlie's soap – noticing with amusement that it was the same brand the rest of his family used as well, Hermione washed herself quickly, scrubbed clean and got back out of the shower.

She towelled off, trying to keep her balance while she dried her feet.

She wrinkled her nose at the idea of putting her used underwear back on, but with nothing else, Hermione settled for a strong cleaning charm on the clothing before pulling them back on again. She pulled Charlie's shirt on over the top and Hermione glanced in the mirror when she was done, amused when she discovered he'd given her one of his old Quidditch jerseys. It had a faded number seven on the sleeves and the back; the Hogwarts emblem and Gryffindor team name on the front and the name C. Weasley stamped across the back.

The idea titillated her in ways it had no right to and Hermione grinned at her own reflection. She eyed her jeans for a minute, not intending to sleep in them and so not wanting to put them back on. Rather than bothering, Hermione picked up the pile of her own clothing and carried it with her as she left the bathroom.

"That was fast," Charlie commented from the kitchen when Hermione returned there, setting her things in a pile on the kitchen bench.

"I didn't need to wash my hair or I'd be up all night trying to get it dry," Hermione replied, "You go grab a shower, I'll finish these."

"They're done," he shook his head, turning towards her with both sandwiches plated up.

He paused when he spotted her leaning barefoot against the kitchen bench wearing only his jersey. It fell to mid-thigh on her, but Hermione imagined the sight was more of her than he was used to seeing. She hated herself a little when she felt another throb of heat between her legs at the way he trailed his gaze over her from head to foot.

"Gryffindor colours did always suit you," he chuckled, handing her a plate and waving his hand towards the cups on the bench where he'd clearly made her a cup of tea.

"Probably a good thing," Hermione replied, "Else I'd have spent an awkward seven years wearing unbecoming colours."

He nodded around the big bite he'd taken of his sandwich and Hermione watched him as he watched her while she ate her own sandwich as well. She could feel the tension between the two of them increasing slowly and Hermione sighed out a heavy breath when she took a long drink from her cup of tea.

"You should get to bed," he told her when they'd finished eating while Hermione set the plates and cups on the sink, "Seven AM is going to come a lot sooner than you think with the hangover we've both got coming."

Hermione nodded her head.

"Come on," he reached for her, tugging her down the hall by the hand and nodding her towards the bedroom. Hermione bit her lip as she turned in the doorway to glance up at him, "I'll be in there in a bit. Don't hog the covers, alright?"

"No promises," Hermione told him, grinning.

He laughed as he turned away and Hermione was sure she might've whimpered out loud when he yanked his shirt off over his head on his way into the bathroom, revealing the tattooed, muscled expanse of his back to her hungry gaze. Like the rest of his body that she'd ever seen, he was so freckled that he looked tan because of the amount of time he spent outdoors. Hermione wanted to run her fingers over every inch of that flesh and it took more self-control than she'd realised she possessed to be able to turn away as he closed the bathroom door.

She didn't bother turning the light on as she crossed the room to his bed. He'd pushed it into the corner of the room and Hermione suspected he didn't entertain a lot of overnight guests. That idea pleased her immensely. She'd been getting bad vibes all evening from Amy, making her think the woman fancied herself Charlie's lover. Given Charlie's lack of reaction to Amy's bad mood and his continued insistence that Hermione be so close to him, not to mention his allowing her to sleepover in his bed, she doubted the woman was his girlfriend.

Maybe she just fancied herself his girlfriend. Hermione snorted to herself as she peeled back the covers and climbed between the sheets of Charlie's bed. If the woman thought she was going to end up with Charlie Weasley one day, she was sorely mistaken. If anyone was taking the title of Mrs Charles Weasley, it was going to be Hermione Jean Granger, thank you very much.

Snuggling down under the covers, Hermione slid to the far side of the bed closest to the wall and stretched out on her back. She tried to convince the walls to stop spinning and she found herself wishing she hadn't drunk quite so much that evening. Hermione closed her eyes, listening to the sounds all around her. In the distance she could hear the occasional sound of a dragon roaring into the night. The sound of people stumbling their way home within the village – having also been kicked out of the pub at closing time – could also be heard. People laughing and calling to one another.

Closer still, Hermione could hear the sound of the water running through the pipes as Charlie bathed and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth when she heard him randomly begin to sing the chorus of one of the songs that had been playing at the pub. She chuckled to herself at the muffled sound, especially when she heard him sing the wrong lines, mixing them up and singing them out of order.

He was still singing in a slurred mumble when the door to the bathroom opened once more and Hermione heard more than saw that he waved his wand to lock the front door and turn out the lights.

She grinned as she began singing the words along with him, giving him a sound to follow over to the bed.

"Bloody good song, that one," he muttered to her when they'd both sung the chorus obnoxiously loudly.

"You won't think so when you wake up tomorrow with it still in your head," Hermione told him.

She opened her eyes to watch him fuss around in the dark and by the dim light of the moon outside, Hermione could see Charlie standing over by a chest of drawers in just a towel. He squiggled his hips slightly as though he were dancing to the song still playing in his head and Hermione squinted in the dark, trying to see when he dropped the towel and grabbed some fresh boxers. Hermione couldn't tell what colour they were in the dark as he jerked them up his legs.

She could, however, see it when he turned towards her with his hands in one of the drawers still, looking as though he were debating whether or not he ought to don more clothing to sleep next to her.

"Are you going to wander around singing all night, or are you coming to bed?" Hermione asked him.

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch, Hermione?" he asked, clearly sobering up a bit and regaining some of the gentlemanly sensibilities Molly and Arthur had undoubtedly drummed into him.

"Don't be ridiculous," she rolled her eyes, snorting with amusement at the very idea and secretly wanting to feel him crawl into bed beside her.

"You're not going to get weird on me in the morning?" he asked, clearly discarding thoughts of more clothing as he crossed the room towards the bed wearing only his boxers.

"Only if you sleep on the couch and make things awkward," Hermione told him, "Just get into bed, would you? I'm cold."

Charlie laughed.

"You're probably the only straight witch I know who can sound so impatient whilst inviting a man to bed with her, entirely for non-sexual purposes," he informed her as he peeled back the covers and crawled in next to her.

"Do you get invited to bed by lots of bent girls for non-sexual purposes, Charlie?" Hermione asked innocently, smirking to herself.

"I'm not above wrestling you for that tone, Granger," he warned at her flirtatious and rather cheeky tone.

"You couldn't even if you tried," Hermione challenged immediately, "You couldn't even pull your boots off without falling over."

"Right, that's it," he growled playfully and Hermione immediately squirmed when he reached for her under the covers, digging his fingers into her sides as he began to tickle her.

She couldn't hold back the laughter that bubbled up from within her as she tried to escape his tickling fingers, squirming across the bed until she hit the wall. Charlie was laughing as well, chasing her across the small space. Her only option was to fight back when she found herself trapped and Hermione gleefully dug her fingers into his ribs, the skin bare beneath her touch as she did so.

"Oi! That's not how this works. You're cheeky, you get tickled," Charlie laughed, "You don't get to fight back while you're punished."

"What are you going to do about it, Weasley?" Hermione challenged, kicking one leg over him and straddling him. Hermione pinned him to the bed, still tickling him mercilessly.

"You're going to regret that, love," he retorted, squirming beneath her hands before he bucked his hips, trying to dislodge her from her perch atop him.

"I don't think I will," Hermione laughed, writhing when he tickled her some more.

She squeaked when she suddenly felt both of his hands slide up the length of her thighs before he gripped her tight and flipped them both with ease. He caught her hands in his tight grip and jerked her arms up over her head, pinning them to the pillow. The length of his body rested intimately in the cradle her hips created, her knees bent up either side of his lean, muscled frame.

"I wrestle ten tonne dragons all day, love," he reminded her, "Did you think one little hundred pound witch would be a challenge for me?"

Hermione snorted at his cocky tone, suddenly finding her whole body scorching with desire she could feel every sinuous inch him pressed against her. Something hot and hard inside his boxers prodded intimately against the scorching junction of her thighs and Hermione bit her lip on a whimper that threatened to escape her.

"And when you get those dragons pinned, what do you do to them Charlie?" Hermione asked, aware of her suddenly breathless tone and suspecting he noticed it too.

"Well now, that depends on what it is they need from me," he replied, his own voice turning husky, "Some of them have been injured in a fight and need to be patched up. Some of them need a good scrub down to make them feel better after eating something they shouldn't."

Hermione could feel her breath coming in little gasps as he spoke. He lowered his face towards her neck as he listed the types of things his job entailed in that husky voice. His long red hair was loose and damp, tickling her skin and making her quiver. He trailed the tip of his nose up the length of her neck, and Hermione didn't even think about it as she stretched it automatically in response to give him better access.

"Some of them need their claws cut or a hang-nail removed," he went on, "Some might have some scale-rot I've got to scrub at with a metal brush," he trailed his lower lip against her jaw seductively, making Hermione tremble.

"Some of the females need a belly rub when they get pregnant and they're uncomfortable," he kept talking and Hermione was alarmed that the use of the word 'pregnant' whilst in bed with him didn't douse the heat racing through her, "Some of the males need a good fight and to snap and snarl when they get beaten out for the right to mate. My job is to figure out what they need and give it to them."

Hermione shivered when he stopped, his mouth by her ear, his lips brushing ever so faintly against the sensitive shell.

"What do you need, Hermione?" he whispered hotly into her ear, searing her with his heat.

A lusty whimper left her throat without her permission and, unbidden, her body arched beneath Charlie's. Her breasts tingled when she pressed them to his chest and her breath hitched as she rubbed herself needily against his crotch. He nipped her earlobe in response to the caress and Hermione would swear she must be dreaming.

Hermione arched into him again, feeling the way he ground his erection against the needy junction of her thighs through the thin fabric of their underwear. Somewhere away in the distance there was another roar from a dragon. Charlie's lips trailed a burning line of kisses along the edge of her jaw towards her mouth and Hermione moaned softly at the exquisite caress.

Another roar from a dragon, this time much louder than before, had him stilling.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, pulling back from her slightly.

"The dragon?" Hermione asked, trying to think clearly through the haze of lust and fire-whiskey.

"I'm not imagining it," he said and by the glow of the moon through the window, Hermione watched the way Charlie's brow furrowed.

She was just opening her mouth to ask if it was important right then that a dragon was roaring somewhere, but before she could, a rapid and alarmingly-loud pounding came from Charlie's front door.

"Shit," Charlie groaned, burying his face against her neck once more and latching onto the flesh. Hermione moaned softly as he suckled at the flesh, drawing blood to the surface and giving her a love-bite. The pounding at the door continued.

"You need to get that, don't you?" Hermione sighed when he pulled back from her and looked at her guiltily.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Do you want me to get it?" Hermione asked, bucking her lips slightly against the raging erection she could feel pressed to her throbbing, aching core.

"That would nice," Charlie chuckled, "But no. It'll be one of the Handlers. Sounds like Hercules is getting worse. You stay here. Get some rest. You've got to be up in four hours to start your first day of Tamer training."

He climbed off her reluctantly and Hermione sighed in frustration as she watched him dig some jeans and a shirt from his chest of drawers. He pulled them on quickly.

"Do you need my help?" Hermione asked as she watched him pull his shirt on over his head.

"With Herc?" he asked, "Nah, it's alright, Hermione. You sleep. You're going to need it. It'll be bad enough that I'm fuck-eyed right now. Don't need you there while you're tipsy too."

Hermione sighed again, flopping back against the pillows when he glanced at her for a moment, looking rather torn between his duty to his job and his yearning to return to bed, hopefully to ravish her. He didn't say anything else before striding out of the room, pulling the bedroom door mostly closed behind him.

"What Gerry?" his voice came a few minute later when he snatched the front door of his.

"We need you, boss," a panicked male voice replied, "It's Herc, he's getting worse. Crashing into the bars of the enclosure. He's already hurt himself."

"Has anyone tried sedating him?" Charlie asked, the slur of his drunkeness disappearing with the boost of adrenaline that came from needing to call on his expertise.

"Marla tried to get close enough to give him something and he almost tore her arm off," Gerry said, clearly still panicked, "They've rushed her to the Clinic. She'll be out of the game for a month at least, they reckon. Ripped her shoulder apart when he grabbed her in his jaws and flung her around the cage. Henry and Samson are in the hospital too after they had to dive in and distract Hercules while the rest of us got Marla outta there."

"Fuck!" Charlie cursed, "Let's go."

Hermione heard the sound of him pulling his boots on followed by the door being pulled shut. Heavy footsteps across the porch ended abruptly when they both stepped off the edge and raced away into the night to deal with the crisis on hand. She was torn between the urge to go after them and offer her assistance however she could, and between wanting to call Charlie back and demand he have his wicked way with her.

Her whole body burned with the urge to be touched, with the need for release. And by the sounds of things, Charlie wasn't going to be coming back any time soon to help her out with that notion. Huffing in annoyance, Hermione figured she would just have to do it herself.


	3. Chapter 3: Douse

**A/N: Right, so Shaya is a bad influence who asked of so sweetly for the next installment and I couldn't tell her no because I adore her =) As such, here is the next chapter. I hope you like it. i'm so pleased that so many of you are loving Charlie as much as I do. Thanks ever so much to all of you who take the time to leave me glowing reviews. You're so wonderful. Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Douse**

* * *

The sound of a frustrated and rather pained groan accompanied a loud and insistent beeping and buzzing of an alarm. Hermione Granger blinked her eyes open painfully, her head beginning to ache immediately at the assault of dawn light pouring through the window. She realised dimly that the alarm was buzzing loudly, making her headache worse and alerting her to the fact that less than four hours sleep combined with the worst hangover she'd had in a while we're going to make for a wretched day.

"Urgh," she groaned, attempting to twist towards the general direction where her own alarm clock usually lived, trying to cease the wretched sound to protect her aching head from its shrill squealing.

Her mouth felt dry and fuzzy, as though someone had been shoving cotton wool into her mouth all night long or some furry woodland creature had crawled inside while she slept and had the indecency to die there. Her head ached and throbbed dully behind her eyes and she had to squint, trying to make sense of her surroundings when her attempts to swing her arm proved fruitless. She blinked in confusion when she opened her eyes to the sight of soft red chest hair and a brightly coloured tattoo.

Hermione groaned a second time, trying to move her body and finding it useless. She seemed to be intimately entwined with someone and all four of her limbs had been immobilised. She laid on her side, burrowed into someone's chest with her forehead pressed against someone's neck. The tip of her nose rested intimately against a man's clavicle. One of her arms was stretched across the mattress where they lay, slotted into the small gap created by the man having his own arm curled beneath her neck and around her back, with a hand tangled in her hair.

Her other arm was curled over Charlie's ribs and around his back. Indeed, she had her fingers tangled in his soft red hair. Her legs were similarly trapped. He'd hooked his outer knee over her hip and pulled her outer thigh between both of his, his calf-muscle pressed against the bare length of the back of her thigh and his foot tucked under her calf. His free arm was wrapped around her waist, pressing her to his chest, their fronts intimately pressed together.

"It's the back-up alarm," Charlie grumbled, his voice husky with sleep when Hermione tried moving her hand, her fingers getting stuck in his red hair, as she attempted to stop the noise.

"Make it stop," she groaned, realising that the beeping and the buzzing were the result of two different alarms going off. One, she spotted on Charlie's nightstand when he lifted his head slightly. The other was somewhere out of sight

"Hermione?" he asked, peering down at her as though he wasn't sure just whom it was that he was in bed with.

Hermione tilted her head to squint at him in return. His eyes were bloodshot and narrowed as he squinted against the daylight pouring in through the open curtains. He looked like hell and Hermione imagined she looked worse.

"What time is it?" she groaned at him, trying to burrow her face back into his neck to hide from the sunlight, her mind not yet firing on all cylinders.

"If the back-up alarm is going off it means it's probably quarter to seven," he rumbled, his voice a deep baritone.

"What?" Hermione yelped, her eyes flying open again as she began to kick.

"It's been going off for a few minutes though, so it's probably closer to ten to, by now," he went on.

"No! No, no, no," she whimpered, beginning to writhe in his hold as she became fully aware of how entangled they both were at the moment, "I'm going to be so late. I've never been late on the first day! Shit! No, no, no! FUCK!"

Hermione shouted the final word in frustration as she tried to get loose of Charlie's hold in her panic. Charlie snorted in amusement.

"I didn't know you knew how to curse," he laughed before groaning when Hermione found the only way to get free of him was to roll him to his back, straddle his hips again, pry her arm from beneath him and then crawl right back off him again.

And she'd intended to do it in that order, but the second she straddled him, Charlie growled like a dragon himself, gripping her hips tight and lifting her right back off of him.

"Shit," he cursed, his eyes flashing with annoyance and pain. It was then that she noticed he had a bright white bandage wrapped around his left thigh, something she hadn't noticed until she moved the sheets out of the way as she attempted to clamber off him. He had another bandage around his left shoulder too.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, holding herself off him, noting that his grip was still bruisingly tight on her hips. If she weren't so hungover and in such a rush to get to work, she'd have been turned on as hell by the feel of his hands gripping her so tightly.

"I'm alright," he nodded, releasing her slowly as Hermione continued trying to clamber off him, "Herc got a bit stroppy with me, is all."

Hermione nodded her head, knowing that one of the biggest risks that came with working with dragons was that they were enormous, temperamental beasts who could and would turn on their keepers in a heartbeat if they were in a bad mood.

"How bad?" Hermione asked, climbing off Charlie and clutching at her head even as she found the stop button on the alarm clock by the bed.

She blanched before he'd even answered when she saw he'd been right about the time. She had to be at work in seven minutes.

"It's nothing," Charlie told her, watching her hurry over to the back-up alarm clock on his desk across the room and turning it off as well, "Just caught me with his claws."

"Do you know where my clothes are?" Hermione asked, turning in circles, still clutching her head and trying to remember what she'd done with them.

"They're in the kitchen," he chuckled, also clutching his own head, "Oi!"

Hermione spun back to him, already on her way to the door.

"Drink this before you go, you'll feel better," he tossed her a corked phial of hangover potion.

Hermione caught it instinctively and drank it, watching Charlie do the same. She shuddered at the wretched flavour and tried not to gag.

"You don't have to rush, you know?" he called after her as she mumbled her thanks and dashed out into the kitchen to retrieve her clothes.

"I have to be at work in five minutes," Hermione argued.

"I can guarantee that your overseer will be late, Hermione," Charlie laughed, watching her turn the gas stove on to boil the kettle for him even as she pulled her jeans on.

"That's really not the point," Hermione argued with him some more, squiggling into her jeans and racing to the door to collect her shoes, "I should've been ready by now. I should be there by now! Why didn't I even think last night that I could have just Floo'd to my place from here?"

"Because we'd both had enough drink to kill a troll?" Charlie suggested and Hermione tried really hard not to notice the fact that he was wandering around with no shirt on. He had donned a pair of jeans, though Hermione noticed he'd yet to button them up. He was wandering around scratching at his chest idly and looking like he needed to get to work.

"Don't you need to be at work by seven as well?" she asked him, grabbing a pinch of Floo powder and clambering into his fireplace.

He merely shot her one of those smouldering expressions Hermione so enjoyed before she dropped the Floo powder and disappeared. She landed in her own cabin and raced for the bathroom, groaning when she caught sight of her hair in the mirror. She hadn't gotten it wet so it wasn't a complete nest, but it seemed sleeping with Charlie's hands in it hadn't done her any favours.

She didn't even have time to charm it. Cursing under her breath, Hermione flipped her head forward, gathered the riotous curls into a thick bundle and used a hair elastic to tame it all into a messy bun. She was sure her day would consist of shovelling dragon dung and other such things, so she hardly thought she needed to look professional and ready to meet the queen.

When she was done Hermione grabbed her toothbrush, squirted some paste onto the brush and stuck into her mouth, scrubbing furiously at her teeth. Yesterday's jeans would have to do as she'd yet to unpack any others and Hermione surveyed her appearance in Charlie's jersey while she scrubbed. It was comfortable to wear and she would very much like to keep wearing it, but Hermione got the feeling that would look really bad. Especially given everyone would think she'd slept with him last night.

That, in itself would be bad enough. But the truth was worse. She hadn't slept with him because he'd been called away to handle a dragon issue and hadn't returned until much later, injured, and quiet enough that he hadn't even woken her up when he snuck in. She'd slept in his bed because she been too drunk to find her own bloody house and she didn't want to have to explain that to anyone.

Ripping the jersey off over her head as she raced into her own bedroom, Hermione chucked the garment on the bed and fished out one of her tank tops instead. She'd been told to dress ready for hard work where she was likely to get hot and sweaty, so that's what she did. Pulling a black tank top on over her sports bra, Hermione grabbed her deodorant can and doused her armpits thoroughly. She already had her shoes and socks on.

Racing back into the kitchen, Hermione was once again grateful for her own preparedness when she found her backpack already packed and ready to go. She grabbed her pre-made lunch from the fridge, skolled all the water in her drink bottle before refilling it, scooped up a snack bar since she didn't have time for breakfast and dashed out the door. As soon as she reached the porch, Hermione turned on the spot and apparated over to the entrance to the Dragon sanctuary where the enclosures and the dragon-clinic were located.

Hermione landed and righted herself, trying desperately not to vomit up all the water she'd just downed. When she had herself under control, Hermione glanced around the entrance and realised she was alone.

Had they started without her? Glancing at her watch, Hermione saw she still had a couple of minutes to spare before seven, so she wasn't technically late. Where were they? The information she'd been given said all the Dragon Tamers and Keepers within the sanctuary began their day at seven. Wandering around, Hermione found a section where she assumed everyone was supposed to check their stuff in.

She fished her information sheet from her bag and discovered her locker number and combination before locating that locker and opening it up. She squeaked in surprised when she opened it and discovered someone had clearly intended to surprise her and make her first day special. Inside the locker was a plush toy in the shape of an Antipodean Opaleye dragon the length of her forearm, along with a bundle of balloons that came flowing out of her locker tied on a string to a big card.

It wished her welcome and a happy first day in her exciting new career. Hermione grinned when she noticed that whoever had done this for her had clearly gotten everyone on the Dragon Tamer, Handler and Overseer staff to sign it, all of them leaving words of encouragement.

Hermione chuckled when she found the message Charlie had scrawled. It read:

You can't be a Tamer until you taste dragonfire ~ Charlie Weasley.

She didn't know what it would mean to taste dragonfire, but she hoped he didn't mean it literally. She couldn't help but smile as she read the well-wishes from the rest of the Tamers she'd met as well. Jason had written that he hoped she could take the heat. Caroline had signed it with the warning that if she couldn't handle the smell of dragon dung, she should switch careers now, because everything else in the job was more disgusting and even less fun to play with. Sid had signed his name alongside a note promising to buy her the first drink of the night if she could get through the day without pissing herself in terror.

Hermione laughed when she read the message Harvey had left – recalling from last night's drinking that he had a twisted sense of humour. His note said that if she made it through the day without quitting to pick a new career, he would teach her the Peruvian Vipertooth mating ritual and perform it on her, if she'd let him. There was even a message from Amy, though it was rather snarky. It warned that if anything chased her, she should run.

 ** _Dearest Hermione,_**

 ** _Welcome to Dragonsmeade and your exciting new adventure! You haven't met me yet, but my name is Saskia. I'm one of the Dragon Nursey carers and I wanted to make sure you received a really warm welcome. Don't worry too much that some of the other idiots have left you dire warnings and are probably placing bets on how long you'll last. They like you, I promise. They're just mentally preparing themselves in case this lifestyle turns out not to be for you._**

 ** _They've been burned a few too many times before with newbies who come over to Dragonsmeade from every corner of the earth thinking this will be the life they want, only to change their minds._**

 ** _I've read your files though, Miss Hermione Granger, and I know you're not going to give up on us easily. I just wanted to make sure you had a really warm welcome here at the sanctuary and to let you know that if you need anything, you let me know, alright? A friend. A guide around town. Someone to box the ears of the other Tamers when they get short with you (ignore their moods until after lunch – they work long hours late at night and tend to drink too much most of the time). The point is, I'm here for everything you need and am happy to help in any way I can._**

 ** _Your overseer will show you around today, so I'll probably see you when you come by the Nursery, but if not, I'll find you later. Okay? You won't be able to miss me when you see me, I promise. And don't let the others fill your head with lies about me, okay? They're rotten liars, the lot of them._**

 ** _Enjoy your first day! I can't wait to meet you!_**

 ** _-Saskia Kroshnovik_**

The entire letter was surrounded by glitter and stickers and other extremely girly and perky looking things like streamers. Hermione felt a little bit alarmed, but was touched that someone had taken the time to make her a welcome card and to make sure she felt like she was wanted here.

Tucking the card and the wayward balloons back into her locker, Hermione shrugged out of her backpack and stuffed it inside with everything else. She tore into her snack-bar hungrily and dug around for her purse when she spotted a girl across the street opening a small coffee shop. As soon as she snagged it, Hermione bounded towards the store.

"Hi!" the girl greeted her with a smile when she saw Hermione coming even as she opened up.

"Are you open yet?" Hermione asked the girl, "Sorry. That was rude. Hello. I'm Hermione. I'm new. Please tell me you're serving already?"

The girl began to laugh as Hermione rambled. Her nerves were getting the better of her as she waited for the other Dragon Tamers to arrive and waited for her overseer to turn up. She desperately needed caffeine or she was likely to get cranky since the hangover potion Charlie had given her had only achieved so much. Her head was still pounding and her stomach was churning.

"Did those bastards send you to fetch their morning coffee on your very first day, Hermione?" the girl asked her, "And I'm Suzy, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you, Suzy. And no. No one sent me. I'm supposed to be meeting my overseer at seven, but it's almost ten past and I'm the only person here."

"They're probably all hungover again. As for your overseer, I'm pretty sure that was meant to be Marla, but she got pretty banged up last night with Hercules. One of the other Tamers will take over the job, I imagine. How do you take your coffee?"

"Can you do a triple shot mochaccino with three sugars, four marshmallows and a vanilla shot? In the biggest cup you've got?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"You got it," Suzy winked at her, "You seem pretty keen for today, all things considered?"

"All things?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh," Suzy paused and glanced over at her, "They um… I'm not supposed to tell you, but after what happened to the last newbie in training, I think I better… They're going to put you through your paces today Hermione. They'll wow you with the dragons, but they're going to make sure that every disgusting, gross, unpleasant and otherwise wretched job that comes with being a Dragon Tamer will be something you have to do today. They like to test the newbies on the first day with everything you might encounter in this job. They'll throw you in with a cantankerous shrew of a dragon and see how you do. They'll have you shovelling dung and scraping at scale-rot and other foul things that are going to make you gag. More than half the people who turn up wanting to take on this job end up quitting after day one. They prefer to put your through the paces and try to break you early so they don't waste time and energy training someone who will back out of the job a few months or weeks into it."

"They're already betting to see if I'll wet myself," Hermione nodded, accepting her coffee and drinking several large gulps, "They were running a pool on it at the pub last night."

"Oh you've already met a few of them?" Suzy asked.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, "I'm best friends with Charlie's youngest brother and spent most of my summers with his family when I was still in school. I met a bunch of the other Tamers last night at the pub. It's why I'm so desperately in need of this."

She hefted the coffee cup indicatively.

"Well, you're doing better than the rest of them so far. Have you eaten? They'll be a while yet. Usually if they've had a big night like they did last night, or a bad night, which last night was, they don't tend to get here until seven thirty. You've got time for something to eat, if you want?"

"What do you have?" Hermione asked, "Keeping in mind that I'm hungover and that I'll be doing a number of disgusting things today and don't much fancy the idea of throwing up later."

Suzy laughed again.

"Well, at least you've got a sense of humour about it. The last newbie I warned nearly cried. She quit before she'd even finished her tour of the enclosures after what Marla put her through," Suzy told her, "In that case though, I recommend the savoury muffins. Fresh baked last night and coming in a number of flavours, they'll help soak up the alcohol in your system and aren't likely to make you throw up later when you're up to your elbows in dragon dung."

"Delightful," Hermione sighed, glancing over the muffins on the display case Suzy pointed to before settling on a bacon and cheese muffin.

Suzy heated it for her slightly and handed it to her on a plate with a bottle of sauce that she swore made it beyond delicious. Hermione decided she might as well trust the bubbly waitress and accepted both from her before tucking into the food.

She was just finishing off eating her muffin and downing the rest of her coffee when the first of the Tamers began to arrive. Hermione grinned a little when she spotted first Greg and then Sid arriving across the street. Both of them clutched at their heads and groaned at the effect of apparating.

"Ah shoot," Suzy cursed when more Tamers began to arrive, "They're a bit early. Shit. I'm not ready with all their coffees yet and they're going to be grouchy as shit until I get them caffeinated and fed."

"Do you need a hand?" Hermione offered, getting to her feet and carrying her plate around the counter without waiting for permission.

"Do you know how to make coffee?" Suzy asked.

"Not to café standards, but I can heat muffins and things if you need me to," Hermione told her.

"Um… yeah, they'll most likely all want a muffin this morning if they've had a rough night. Okay, could you warm up twelve more muffins? Nine of those savoury muffins and three sweet ones."

Hermione did as she was asked, waving her wand until each of the muffins was steaming while Suzy went to work steaming milk, pouring coffee and laying out large take away cups.

"Whose is whose?" Hermione wanted to know, picking up a big black marker.

"Oh, you're a life saver, Hermione," Suzy told her, "This one is for Sid. Harvey. Caroline. Jason. Charlie. Amy. Saskia. Ivan. Greg. Raja. Tatiana. Louis. And this last one is for you."

She pointed at each cup in order as she began fixing them and Hermione wrote the names of each person on the side before clipping a lid onto each enormous cup.

"Oh. You didn't have to make me another one," Hermione told her as she helped out, "Though I'm grateful."

"It's no problem. Now jump around the other side there before they see you and get ideas about making you their coffee girl until the next newbie shows up. They'll give you enough little minion-type tasks if you stick around as it is. You don't want them getting ideas."

"I'm glad I met you," Hermione told her.

Suzy smiled at her and waved her hand, "Get over there and greet them all until I'm ready, could you? You don't want them to think you're late."

Hermione did as she was told, taking her coffee and strolling across the street as more and more of the Dragon Tamers began to arrive.

"Bloody hell, Sid!" Caroline growled as Hermione walked into the shed where the lockers were, watching as most of the Tamers stashed their things in lockers and dug around, "Why the fuck did you make me drink so bloody much!"

"Me?" Sid snarled in return, "You were the one who kept insisting on the tequila shots with whiskey chasers!"

"Piss off, it was your idea to do shots in the first place!" Caroline argued right back.

"Jam it, the both of you," Jason snapped when he arrived, "Or I'm going to bash your heads together and see who splits first."

"Fuck you, Van Der Meene," Sid swore at the man in return and Hermione looked on with no small amount of amusement when she realised that her new colleagues were clearly as cantankerous as the beasts they saw to every day.

"Blow me, Reynolds," Jason retorted to Sid immediately.

Propping her shoulder against the wall just inside the door where she wouldn't be in anyone's way, but could watch as the temperamental Tamers continued to argue and snarl at one another over who was to blame for their hangovers and who'd done what the night before, Hermione watched the carnage. When Charlie appeared on the scene, he looked mildly more revived than the rest of the team and Hermione noticed he'd been smart enough to collect his coffee and what looked like one of the sweet muffins from Suzy across the street before joining them.

He was tucking into the muffin hungrily and Hermione watched him with some amusement when he got powdered sugar on his nose while he scarfed down the food. He ignored his fighting colleagues even when Sid and Jason began shoving one another while he carried his bag to his locker and opened it one handed.

He'd managed to button up his jeans in the twenty minutes since she'd left his cabin, and he'd found a shirt, though Hermione noticed idly that it was once against a sleeveless dragon-hide tunic designed to protect his torso from being roasted. His hair had been pulled into the leather throng he tamed it with, tied low at the back of his neck where it would be out of the way. The white bandaging around his shoulder was visible but as he ate his muffin and drank his coffee, he didn't give any indication that he was hurting from whatever Hercules had done to him.

"Oi! Where's mine, you bastard?" Greg demanded of Charlie when he spotted him polishing off the last of his muffin and drinking his coffee.

"Suzy's waiting on you lot with your food and coffee," Charlie shrugged at them, "Get it your bloody self."

"Bastard!" Greg accused, "What the fuck happened to you anyway? That fiery little kitten get rough with you, did she?"

He poked his finger at Charlie's bandages and Hermione got the feeling that the 'fiery little kitten' was her when Charlie slanted a glance in her direction, clearly aware of her presence though he'd yet to greet her.

"Hercules mauled Marla, Henry and Samson last night," Charlie said, looking back at Greg, "Gerry came to get me."

"Fuck!"

"Shit, are they alright?"

"How bad are they?"

Everyone stopped squabbling at the news, turning to look at Charlie.

"Marla's pretty messed up," Charlie sighed, "Hercules grabbed her and flung her around in his jaws. Nearly torn her arm off. She's out for a month at least. Henry and Sam both caught some claws and the fire when they were distracting Herc while the team got Marla out."

"Ah, shit," Caroline dragged a hand through her pixie-short blonde locks, "Got stroppy with you too, eh?"

"Caught me with his claws 'cause I was still fuck-eyed," Charlie shrugged.

"How's Herc?" Jason wanted to know.

"Sedated. They upped his dosage a bit more too," Charlie sighed, "Go on and get your food and your coffee, you lot. We're covering for the three of them today and we've got Hermione here for her first day of training too."

He nodded in Hermione's direction.

"Ah, you're alive then, kitten?" Sid grinned when he spotted her leaning against the wall and sipping her coffee.

"More so than you, by the looks of it," Hermione returned the smile, "Get on and drink your coffee before you vomit, would you?"

"Reckon Suzy's ready for us?" Caroline asked as they all began heading for the coffee shop.

Hermione didn't comment as she watched them go, shaking her head and chuckling a bit.

"Told you that your handler would be late, didn't I?" Charlie said when it was just the two of them left.

"Which one's in charge of trying to run me out of the dragon program today?" Hermione asked him, watching him stroll closer to her until he stood in front of her.

The sunlight gleamed off his fiery red hair and those wild-eyes surveyed her relaxed posture calmly.

"You were here before seven, weren't you," he smirked suddenly, eyeing her, "That's your second cup of coffee and you've already had breakfast."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"This isn't Suzy's writing," he told her, tilting his cup towards her to show how she'd written his name in neat letters across the side of his cup, "I know your handwriting well enough to recognise it when I see it."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "I wanted to be on time and the rest of you were late."

"You opened your locker yet?" Charlie asked her, seeming amused by her attitude.

"Mmhmm," Hermione hummed, "Tell me how one goes about tasting dragonfire?"

Charlie laughed at her words.

"You'll see," he assured her, "Marla was supposed to be your handler while you're here, but after last night she's out of commission for a few weeks."

"Who's in charge of my training in her stead?" Hermione wanted to know, watching the still-grouchy Tamers across the street where they were tucking into muffins and skolling their coffee.

"Me," Charlie told her casually.

"Seriously?" Hermione asked, glancing back at him with wide eyes.

Hermione eyed him carefully, wondering if he was having her on. The last thing she needed was to complicate her crush on him even more by having him be in charge of her training. She couldn't be seen lusting after her boss.

"Told you that your handler would be late," he smirked again, looking amused when her cheeks turned pink in horror over her own thoughts and over the fact that she'd been cuddled up in his bed with him half an hour ago.

Hermione bit her lip, trying to hide her panic of the idea of him being her handler. It wasn't that she didn't relish the idea of working in close quarters with him or that she was bothered by the idea of having him teach her. But she'd been lusting after him for years. Being in his presence made her all hot and bothered. She'd been in bed with him last night, letting him kiss her neck and rubbing herself all over him.

As her boss and her superior, it would look bad if she was seen to be lusting after him or getting romantically involved with him. They could circumvent her training and claim she'd shagged her way through the testing with him being in charge of her training while she was there. If someone like Amy were to argue that she was incompetent and had been shagging the boss, she could be kicked out of the program.

Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Charlie for several long minutes in silence. She'd just have to squash down her interest in him. As much as she burned for him, she wanted to complete her training more. Besides, she'd been squashing her interest in him since she'd first met him. What was a few more months or one more year?

"You alright with that?" he asked her, his eyes scanning her face carefully as he gauged her reaction.

Hermione nodded her head slowly, making sure to keep her gaze fixed on his freckled, handsome face rather than allowing herself to drink in the sight he made in his gear.

"So how about it, Hermione?" Jason asked, striding back over towards them near the entrance to the inner centre of the sanctuary, "Are you ready for your first day of dragon training?"

"Are you ready to lose money over betting I'd be out of here by the end of the day?" Hermione retorted, turning her gaze from Charlie and raking her gaze over the dark haired Romanian Tamer.

"Ooh, getting cocky already there, girly?" he asked, grinning at her challenge, "Weasley you better not go easy on this one."

"Do I ever go easy on anyone?" Charlie asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Usually no. But this is Hermione we're talking about," Jason winked at Charlie in return.

"If you go easy on her, she'll automatically fail her training, Weasley," Amy piped up, having followed Jason over from the coffee shop.

"Hermione's never failed anything in her life," Charlie rolled his eyes, "I hardly think that there's anything that we can do to her that will break that record."

Hermione smiled widely at the praise.

"Not that I'm not going to try, mind you," he smirked at her suddenly, looking wickedly amused and more than a little dangerous.

"If she's still here by the end of the day," Harvey began, sipping his coffee.

"Please don't say it, Harvey," Hermione held up her hand, "Reading it in my welcome card from you lot was bad enough."

Everyone began to laugh at her words.

"Peruvian Vipertooth mating ritual?" Caroline asked.

"Mhmm," Hermione nodded, "Apparently there'll be a demonstration."

"Gross," Caroline wrinkled her nose, "Harvey, you're twisted, you know that right?"

Harvey flipped her off and kept drinking his coffee.

"So, what have you got us all doing to pick up the slack, boss?" Sid wanted to know when he returned.

"You three can cover Samson's dragons," Charlie said, all playfulness and banter leaving the group suddenly as they got down to business for the day, "He's been trying to get Hera to go into heat too, so make sure you keep that up. Jace, I need you to handle Henry's ordering and stocktake until he's back on his feet."

"Got it, boss," Jace grinned and Hermione got the feeling that whatever the hierarchy was around here, Jace was Charlie's second in command.

"Tatiana, you and Amy handle Henry's Fireballs. Caroline, you take Sid and Ivan to handle the Ironbelly's. Harvey," Charlie said.

"Vipertooths?" Harvey interrupted, his eyes lighting up.

Charlie nodded, smirking at him.

"Saskia will handle things at the Nursery. The rest of you stick to your usual routine, but if something looks like it needs doing, do it. Me and Hermione will handle things here, so I need you lot out in the field," Charlie told them all.

"You're going to put her in charge of overseeing _all_ the dragons in here?" Amy demanded, narrowing her eyes and pointing indicatively to the sanctuary through the large wrought iron gates that led to the part of the enclosures where the injured, sick and breeding dragons were housed.

"Weren't you just whinging that I'd go easy on her?" Charlie retorted.

"Yeah, boss, but _all_ of them?" Sid asked, "That's over fifty dragons who need medication, sedation, cage-cleans, feeding, bathing, scraping, scrubbing. Hell, boss. I couldn't take on that many alone. It's her first bloody day."

"You take on more than that in the field," Charlie argued.

"Yeah, but they're all healthy and easy to look after. They hunt their own food, and don't need constant attention," Sid argued, looking puzzled about the workload Charlie apparently intended to give her.

"Well, they're all going to need your attention over the next couple of weeks," Charlie informed him, "Because they're all due for their inoculation and their medication in the lead up to breeding season. I want every dragon on the reserve fit, healthy, and ready for the strain of breeding season. They're all due to be fitted with new trackers too. And that falls to each of you."

As a group the gathered Dragon Tamers all groaned.

"Already?" Caroline demanded, "They were all tagged…"

"Three years ago," Charlie finished for her when she trailed off clearly trying to remember when the dragons had all been tagged, "Exactly. They're all due for new trackers. With breeding season around the corner I want them ready. I want the males strong, and the females fattening up to take the strain of pregnancy, egg-laying and egg-sitting. They've got to be inoculated so we don't have another Pox outbreak and they've got to be ready survive the mating rituals and the battles. Jace, I want you ordering triple the usual amount of food we need for the sanctum. Next few months will see most of the beasts coming through the gates for one thing or another."

"Ah hell," Greg grumbled, "We'll need to be ready for callouts too. Migration will have started last night. No wonder Herc was so stroppy. Shit."

The rest of the Tamers, suitably grumpy again, all accepted their orders and began stomping off towards their respective areas to handle their own jobs.

"There's no way she'll be able to take on the entire sanctum, Charlie," Amy stated, hanging back when everyone else left, "She'll take one look at those dragons and she'll turn tail to bury her nose back in her books."

"Amy?" Charlie asked, leaning forwards a little in a way that Hermione found sexy as hell. He sort of braced a little, like a big cat just waiting for his prey to put a foot out of line and make a mistake so he could lunge for the throat. Amy was clearly intimidated by the pose because she raised her eyebrows questioningly, but she also took a small step back from Charlie.

"Go handle your dragons and leave Hermione's training to me," Charlie commanded of the other witch, narrowing his eyes on her dangerously.

Amy didn't say another word, though she did pause to rake a hateful glare over Hermione before she turned on the spot and Disapparated with a crack.

Charlie loosed a small growl like he were a dragon himself, clearly annoyed by Amy's behaviour. He turned back to her slowly and Hermione found herself needing to tense her entire body to keep from throwing herself at him and rubbing herself all over him. He looked entirely like a predator, ready to breathe fire all over someone if they annoyed him and Hermione could tell he was still hungover and annoyed by their questioning of his Orders.

"Right. Come on," he told her, nodding her towards the gate into the sanctum, "You've got a lot of dragons to meet and a lot to learn."


	4. Chapter 4: Simmer

**A/N: I'm so overwhelmed by how much you guys are liking this one. Thanks ever so much for all the delightful reviews you've been leaving for me. They're all so sweet and wonderful and I adore you all. I hope you like this chapter. More soon, I promise. Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Simmer**

* * *

He strode ahead of her, using his wand to unlock the gate. Hermione watched carefully as he did it, committing the wrist movement and the incantation to memory for future reference so that she'd know how to get in on her own.

"You won't be able to get in here unescorted for a few weeks," Charlie told her as he let her through the gate, "They have to make sure you're not some crazy person here to smuggle the dragons, steal the eggs, slay the dragons or otherwise interfere with the purpose of the dragons. Those inside the sanctum are the most at risk because they're sick, injured, in need of monitoring or nesting females. Until we're certain you're not going to bail on the job or do something reckless, you won't be able to access the area. Your magical signature as to be added to the wards otherwise any magic you do to try and open the sanctum won't work."

Hermione nodded her head as she walked beside him, entering the sanctum for the first time in her life. It was warm inside.

"Once you're inside, your magic will work when it comes to self-defence spells if the dragons get stroppy with you or try and eat you or me. You'll need your wand on you at all times because they're unpredictable, especially when they're sick or nesting," Charlie went on, leading her into a long corridor with a supply room at the end.

He led her inside and began gathering supplies. Hermione watched as he grabbed two wheelbarrows and began filling them with things. Scrubbing brushes with long metal bristles. Shovels. Buckets. A number of products and things. When both were full, he led her back out of the room, and into one filled with potions, phials and injections before assembling a tray.

"Now," Charlie said when a number of supplies for the day's tasks were organised. He stopped and stood before her, his arms folded over his chest as he stared down into her eyes.

Hermione found her gaze jumping to the way his arm and shoulder muscles bulged when they were bunched up like that and she tried to ignore the way the simmering, lusty fire low in her belly began to grow.

"How much did Suzy tell you about the first day of training, Hermione?" Charlie asked her and Hermione lifted her gaze to meet those smouldering brown eyes.

They were like the colour of tear with sunlight shining through it. Rich and warm and inviting. Hermione was sure she could stare into them all day long and still never be able to name every colour of those striations. Like the rich shades of autumn, they were bright a beautiful and she'd never thought anyone had eyes as beautiful as Charlie did.

"She said you guys put the newbies through the paces, pulling out every disgusting, nauseating, dangerous and horrible thing that this job can entail on any given day to make sure you don't waste weeks training someone who will bail at the first sign of scale-rot," Hermione told him truthfully, "That you prefer to scare off the newbie who can't handle it before having to bother with teaching them things and giving them responsibility they end up shirking."

Charlie nodded his head, watching her eyes carefully for any sign that the idea bothered her. Hermione knew he wouldn't find any.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Hermione," Charlie told her, "But today is going to suck. It'd have been hard enough on you getting through your first day with Marla, but you're probably going to want to hex me by the time we knock-off tonight. The fact that I know you from outside of this job means everyone thinks I'm going to take it easy on you. I'm not going to do that. Do you know why?"

"Because it will interfere with my ability to be an effective part of the team if I'm ill-prepared, and because it will make both of us look bad if anyone thinks I was spared the need to do or learn something just because we're practically family," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "I'm not going to ask you to go easy on me, Charlie."

"If Marla hadn't been hurt, I'd have been able to look out for you without making your life hell," he told her quietly, his eyes dancing over her face, "I know you can handle hell, but that's not really the point. They're all going to be watching you pretty closely and people like Amy will rat you out if it looks like you're not being trained properly or like our relationship outside of the job is in any way effecting the professional relationship."

"I know," Hermione told him, "I get the feeling she doesn't like me much."

"She's jealous of you," Charlie informed her, "You're a celebrity who helped take down the most powerful Dark wizard of all time. You're a genius. And you're friends with me."

"Why does she care that you're friends with me?" Hermione asked, fishing for details on just what kind of relationship he and Amy shared that would make her think Hermione was a threat to it.

"We dated for a bit," Charlie admitted, "But it burned out when I realised she's not what I'm looking for. She hasn't forgiven me or moved on yet."

"I see," Hermione said quietly, frowning at the idea that he'd been with Amy in the past even if he no longer was.

The idea bothered her more than it had any right to, until Hermione remembered that she'd once dated his brother. She imagined that idea probably bothered Charlie too. Or might do if he ever realised she fancied him.

"Anyway, they're going to be on the lookout for any sign that you're getting an easy run. I'm not going to give you one, Hermione. As a boss, I'm an arsehole. This place isn't run nearly effectively enough and we're on the brink of breeding season. Things are about to get crazy and it's the worst time to have three of the Tamers out of commission with their injuries but there's nothing for it," Charlie shook his head, "It means you're in for a pretty rough ride. I'm a hard-arse on newbies at the best of times, and I'm going to push you harder than I push anyone else because I know you can handle it and I know that you won't thank me for taking it easy on you. You like being challenged."

Hermione nodded, pleased he knew that much about her.

"They weren't kidding either when they said none of them would be able to take on the entire sanctum alone and that it was insane to make you do it," he warned her, "But I am going to make you. I'll be helping you for the first week or two, but after that the sanctum will be your domain Hermione. It's hard work. The dragons are ornery. They're messy and there's more to this part of the job than the other things Tamers usually handle with the dragons in their enclosures out there. But I need you handling it. With breeding season, plus Marla's shit all landing on me until she's back in the game, I'm going to be hard pressed handling my own shit so the sooner you can handle things here, the easier it will be."

Hermione nodded again, absorbing his words and realising that all that intensity of his was going to get the entire reserve through breeding season with as few incidents and as many pregnant female dragons as possible.

"I can handle it," Hermione told him, "Show me what to do."

Charlie smiled at her than and it was a wicked, sinful type of smile that almost made her knees buckle.

"First we feed 'em. Now, don't bother trying to get their medicine in their morning meal because they won't eat it and they'll be bastards for the rest of the day as a result. Every dragon has a schedule for what they need to be fed, what they need to be dosed with and whatever else they need done to make sure they're being looked after," Charlie explained, uncrossing his arms and beckoning her as he strode off down a hall and through a door.

Hermione wrinkled her nose slightly at the smells as they entered a feedlot. It was filled with cattle. Charlie glanced at her for her reaction at the idea that they were the food the dragons would be fed. The room he led her into was a platform that overlooked the feedlot where the cattle were fed, showing where they were kept. They looked healthy and happy, if she was being honestly. They fed from the grain bins and the milled around together. It was a large space to accommodate the large amount of cattle they needed to keep on site to feed the dragons.

"This is actually the easy part of the day," Charlie told her, "Now of a morning, the dragons are all fed one each. Are you watching?"

Hermione looked away from the milling cattle to where he was standing in front of a switch board of some kind. She watched as Charlie began to push the buttons. Large metal segmentations began popping up around the feeding cattle, enclosing them in a sealed metal cage. They came out of the floor, closing around the cow before lowering into the ground once more, leaving that grain bin empty.

It was done in such a way that the other cattle didn't even flinch and Hermione marvelled at the ability of magic once more.

"Now each one that's grabbed is transported into those cages down a pipe that feeds into the dragon enclosures. It deposits them out in the dragon cages and generally the dragons do the rest. They prefer to roast them before they eat them, but keep an eye on them to make sure they do actually get eaten. Nothing worse than going into a cage with a dragon who hasn't had his breakfast while the meal races around in a panic, bawling and lowing to be set loose."

"Delightful," Hermione wrinkled her nose at the imagery.

Charlie chuckled, "Now, there are a few exceptions for feeding. Prometheus is blind and doesn't know how to hunt, so his breakfast needs to be delivered pre-cooked and ready to eat. Which is this button."

Hermione watched Charlie push another button that killed and roasted one of the cattle inside it's cage before it slid down a tube and into a trough inside the enclosure that must belong to Prometheus.

"And the nesting females won't leave their nests to hunt don't the food, so generally they don't get fed. They're a bit like chickens in that regard. They start nesting and they stop eating while they sit on all those eggs."

"So how do I clean their cages, medicate them or care for them if they're egg-crazed and hungry?" Hermione asked.

"We give them some treats," Charlie told her, "Come on, I'll show you."

He led her to a separate panel that was labelled ' _Nesters_ '

"Now the nesting enclosures are smaller than the others because the females don't need much space while they're all curled up on their eggs. They general like to be left alone to hatch their eggs and since they aren't eating much, they usually don't need to have their cages cleaned very often either because they aren't shitting either."

"Right," Hermione said, "My parents never kept chickens. I didn't know that. I mean, I'd read that they stay on the nests and didn't leave them, but I suppose I didn't think about their bodily functions while that happened."

"Most don't," Charlie nodded, "But you don't want to given them too many treats while they nest, otherwise you've got to go in there and clean up the mess they make. Nesters are usually the easiest to keep in the sanctum because they make their nest, they sit and they don't need much. But they're hard because they need to be checked on often to make sure all of the eggs are getting enough sit-time and that the mother's don't get stroppy and start stomping the eggs. We had that happen last year when one of the males broke out of his enclosure and busted in here wanting to breed. They'll smash a females eggs if they can because it will bring her back into heat and mean their offspring are hatched instead."

Hermione nodded, Hermione mind racing with the knowledge. It occurred to her as she stood there that if a female was to be removed from her eggs, and exposed to a powerful male, she would breed again and lay more eggs. She would need to look into the theory but it had potential to be used as a mean to increase the dragon populations.

"How many eggs are there in a nest,usually?" Hermione asked, watching Charlie consult a chart that listed when the females had last been given treats. There were only two that were currently nesting but that wasn't unusual as it was out of season for them to be breeding just yet.

"It varies based on species," Charlie told her, "But most average about fifteen or twenty eggs a nest. Not all of them hatch. Some get squashed, or some don't gestate properly and go rotten."

"What would be the amount a dragon could effectively sit on and still have most of them hatch?" Hermione asked.

"I've seen some female hatch upwards of forty eggs. It depends on the breed. Welsh Greens, for example, can hatch up to fifty or so eggs in one nest because they're a large dragon, but the eggs are small. Ironbelly's have the biggest eggs, on par with their larger size at maturity, but they only hatch about twenty a nest."

"They could hatch more, though, couldn't they? If they laid more, they have the body-space to hatch more, don't they?" Hermione asked.

"Yes and no," Charlie mused, clearly deciding that the nesters weren't due for any treats, "If they laid thirty or forty eggs, they'd most likely be able to sit on them all, but it's be a struggle. If they were to move around too much a few eggs might be dislodged from the next and accidentally trodden on. That can sometimes happen anyway, but more eggs in the nest would increase the likelihood."

Hermione nodded slowly, thinking carefully about the entire thing. She didn't share her theory yet. She would need to studying the nesting females up close and find out if it could be done.

"Now, when you've fed them, you need to mark the chart," Charlie told her, scribbling his signature to sign that he had fed the dragons in the sanctum for the morning, "Otheriwse someone else will come along, think they've not been fed and feed them again. We don't want to over-feed or it messes with their medication and makes them really lazy."

Hermione chuckled at the idea.

"And now that they've been fed, we need to look at the cleaning schedule," Charlie went on, "You want to wait long enough that they eat their breakfast and settle down for a mid-morning nap. They tend to get sleepy after they eat. That's the best time to clean the enclosures because they're unlikely to worry too much about your being there."

He led her back to the room with the wheelbarrows and Hermione picked up the handles on hers, following after him as he wheeled his off down the corridor.

"Develop a system. You want to start with the dragons that burn through the food the fastest or they'll wake up on you before you're done cleaning," Charlie went on, "Opaleye's, Vipertooth's and Fireball's have the quickest metabolisms, so always start with them. Ironbellies, Horntails and Ridgebacks tend to digest the slowest, which gives you longer to get to their cages."

"Right," Hermione nodded, wishing she'd brought a pen and paper with her but figuring she would just have to commit it all to memory. Most of what he was telling her, Hermione already knew. But it didn't hurt to be reminded when those facts related to her ability to do her jobs here.

"Now, comes one of the least fun parts of the day, Hermione," Charlie told her, stopping her outside a solid steel door and tugging on a lock of her hair that had come free of her messy bun.

"The shit-shovelling part?" Hermione guessed, smirking at him.

"Yep," he nodded, "It's pretty messy work. We could just Vanish it of course, the way we do with the mess the cattle make in the feed-lot. But it's worth too much to Herbologists."

"I know," Hermione smiled at him, "Besides, the way I figure it, as un-fun as shovelling might be, it's an opportunity to observe the dragon, check for injuries or illness; it's also a chance to be this close to a _dragon_."

She held her hands a foot apart, unable to contain her excitement.

"And it's an opportunity to interact with vendors, thus expanding my social network of people living in Dragonsmeade. It's also a chance to collect samples for testing to find out if something in the dragon diet or digestive system is contributing any problems with the breeding issue or indicating any other health problems each individual might be suffering."

"Did I just hear a newbie enthusiastically listing pros for shit-shovelling?" Jason appeared down the end of the corridor, calling out to them both obnoxiously.

Hermione noticed that though Jason had interrupted, Charlie was giving her one of those looks again. The intense, wild-eyed look like he wanted to devour her. The one that made her heart skip a beat

"Wait until you actually smells it when it's fresh," Jason continued, laughing, "You're going to hurl Granger. Ten sickles."

"I've got a pretty strong stomach," Hermione disagreed, "I'll take that bet."

Jason shook her head, laughing.

"She been in with one of the dragons yet?" he asked of Charlie.

"Not yet. Just fed 'em."

"And you're starting her right out the gate with Esmerelda? That's cold, mate," Jason said, his eyes widening, "You need me to spot you two? You know that shrew feigns sleep sometimes to catch you off guard."

"Spot if you want to," Charlie shrugged, "What are you doing here?"

"We've got a problem with the ordering," Jason admitted, "I don't know what Henry's been doing, but we're going to need to more than triple the order on everything we'll need for breeding season. The Ministry's going to have a fit."

"How bad?" Charlie sighed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"We don't have even half of what we need in the lead up to breeding season. We don't even have what we'd need to treat the Ridgeback's alone once their fighting for mating rites is done with and they all need to be patched up," Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fuck!" Charlie snarled, his fists clenching, "Just… Order everything we need. The ministry can fucking deal with it. This is most likely why we ran out of shit last year too."

"I think he's getting some heat from above about how much it costs to run this place. He's been trying to cut-corners and save wherever we can."

"Explaining why we charge more for the barrels of dung we sell the vendors even though it's of lesser quality recently because everything they've been eating is lower quality. The grain we feed the cattle is poor, the cattle are cheap and stringy, usually old and close to death anyway. This place is going to the fucking dogs with the Ministry tightening the noose every chance they get."

Hermione listened to the discussion carefully.

"They'll have a fit when they see how much stuff we'll be ordering if I put through for everything we need, Charlie," Jason said, lowering his voice a little, "You'll wear most of the heat for it too because you'll have to sign off on it."

"I'll handle it. Just get us what we need," Charlie waved his concerns away.

Hermione watched him closely, noting the way his shoulder tensed a bit as though he were already frustrated and feeling the added pressure of being in charge of the sanctuary while Marla was out injured.

"Alright Hermione, come here," Charlie told her, fixing his attentions back on her, "You always want to check the vent and make sure the dragon is asleep before you go in for cleaning."

Hermione watched the way he pushed a small lever on the wall and the steel she'd believed to be part of the enclosure raised in a small section to reveal fire-proof glass beyond it in a small viewing station. Charlie beckoned her forward to look into the cage and Hermione held her breath as she peered through the glass at the dragon inside the enclosure beyond. It wasn't a very big enclosure, all things considered. About one hundred meters long and the same wide, it had a domed roof that allowed in the morning sunshine whilst keeping the dragon contained and protected with the containment enchantments.

And curled up inside the cage on a raised platform was a Peruvian Vipertooth the size of a bus. Her scales were copper and gold and they glittered in the sunshine. Her eyes were closed and she was sleeping, curls of smoke rising from her nostrils.

"She's foxing," Jason warned them.

"How can you tell?" Hermione asked him, watching the dragon carefully and trying to figure out what they saw that she didn't. Charlie was nodding in agreement with Jason's assessment.

"She knows she's one of the first cages cleaned every day, she tries to hold out and keep from sleeping until she can get a good bite in. She's kept in confinement like this year-round because if she's allowed out she endangers the other dragons in her sanctuary, tries to eat her handlers and escapes the enclosure. She was captured in Peru four year ago after she ate almost an entire village worth of people," Jason told her when Charlie didn't speak, "She's Harvey's girl, our Esmerelda, but she'd trouble. You can tell she's foxing because of that there. Did you see it?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes on the dragon, noticing the creature had twitched her tailed the minute Charlie had reached for the door handle to her enclosure and given it a little jiggle.

"We'll give her another few minutes to get bored and she'll fall asleep for real," Charlie decided, "Come on, let's pay Rhydian a visit. He'll be conked out by now."

Hermione watched him turn and cross the corridor over to an enclosure on the other side of the walkway. He repeated the process to open the vent and check on the dragon before even considering entering the paddock. She scanned her eyes over the enormous Welsh Green that slept within, noting the rather undignified way the huge beast was sprawled on his side with on back leg cocked in the air and ticking occasionally as though he were dreaming. When she chuckled at the sight, Charlie slanted her a grin.

"Rhydian's in for scale-rot," he told her, "So he's pretty tired most of the time and he gets pretty stroppy because he's too big for most of the cages. You laugh now, but the stench of scale-rot will make you gag."

Hermione nodded her head, "Do we treat him for that while he's in here and asleep, or just clean his enclosure first?"

"Always clean first," Charlie told her, "You need to haul this inside each cage and fill it."

He kicked an empty barrel sitting outside the entrance to the enclosure, "They're all labelled with the breed of dragon that's in each enclosure, but always double check that the barrel matches the dragon in the cage or you'll end up putting Fireball dung in an Ironbelly barrel and burn right through it."

"Right," Hermione nodded, watching the way Charlie showed her the name on the side of the barrel, stamped with the logo of the company that collected the dung and the words WELSH GREEN in big letters.

"Now you want to fill the barrel first and then levitate it or roll it back over to the door to where it is now, alright?" Charlie explained, "The Dung Beetle Group - the company these belong to - will send someone by later to collect the full ones and replace them with an empty one for tomorrow morning."

He pulled out his wand to levitate the barrel into the enclosure, wheeling his barrow inside and beckoning her to follow him.

"You're about to owe me ten sickles, Granger," Jason told her.

"Jace, clear off and get the ordering done so you can get to your dragons, yeah?" Charlie told the other Tamer.

"Don't be such a grouch, Weasley," Jason retorted, "I pity you working with him all day while he's hungover and cranky, Granger. I'm out of here before he loses that fiery Weasley temper at me."

The man saluted her before strolling away. Hermione heard Charlie muttering about his colleague being a bloody git.

"Weasley temper indeed," she scoffed, "As though I've never been on the receiving end of that before?"

"Come on," Charlie said after slanting an unfathomable gaze at her, "Let's get this over with. We've got a lot of cages to clean."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, wheeling her wheelbarrow into the enclosure behind Charlie and feeling a flush of excitement run through her at the idea of being so close to a dragon. A wide grin began to threaten at the corners of her mouth as she approached the dragon, both she and Charlie heading for the large pile of dun in one corner of the enclosure. They had to pass Rhydian the Welsh Green to reach it and Hermione couldn't resist stopping for a moment to take in how large the enormous dragon actually was.

"How old is Rhydian?" Hermione asked Charlie, discarding her wheelbarrow for a moment to approach the slumbering dragon.

"Almost a hundred years old," Charlie told her, "He was hatched in the sanctuary and has been living here all his life."

"Is that why he's so big?" Hermione asked, "Usually Greens don't get this big, do they?"

"Usually no," Charlie agreed, and though her attention was fixed on the dragon rather than the man she'd been lusting after for many years, Hermione could hear the faint hint of amusement in his voice as she approached the dragon.

"Will he wake up if I touch him?" Hermione asked of the red-haired wizard seriously, lifting her hands and feeling them tingle with the need to touch the shiny scales of the dragon.

"No," Charlie admitted, "Rhydian never wakes at being touched once he's down for a nap. Not until we're half-way through scrubbing his scales to remove the rot. Then he gets stroppy."

"I'd get stroppy being woken from my nap if someone took to me with a metal brush too," Hermione told him, grinning a little.

She stepped closer and closer to the huge reptile as he slept and when she could reach, Hermione smoothed her hands over the scales of his exposed belly. Her hands tingled and she could literally feel the magic running through the enormous beast. A shiver ran down her spine, the hair on her arms and legs prickling at the raw feel of dragon scale under her hands.

"Oh, Charlie," Hermione sighed quietly, letting her eyes drop closed as she touched the creature, "They don't feel like this in gloves or boots or other products made from dragonhide."

She wasn't even aware of the way she moaned Charlie's name as she slid her hands over the belly scales of the Welsh Green, her whole body trembling finely as she leaned in closer until she could press her cheek to his stomach as well. The dragon slept on, heedless of the little witch leaning against his belly. The sound of the dragon's heartbeat hammering away steadily filled her head, overwhelming her senses and Hermione squeaked softly when her hands encountered the rough calloused flesh of her favourite Dragon Tamer.

Blinking her eyes open slowly, her body still pressing against the length of the dragon, rising and falling with each snoring breath he drew in and exhaled once more, Hermione met the wild-eyed gaze of the wizard she wanted to do unmentionable things to. He was giving her one of those looks that made her whole body ache and set her knickers on fire. There was something about his expression that was so far beyond words that she couldn't have described it if she tried. He looked so intrigued and so hungry and so pleased all at once that she trembled a second time, smoothing her palm over the back of his hand.

She could swear as she touched her skin to his that the same powerful feeling of magic and fire that she could feel inside of the dragon also ran through Charlie Weasley. As though he were a dragon himself, wild and unpredictable and dangerous and far more powerful than he let on.

"I'm never going to be able to leave," Hermione whispered to him, holding his gaze, "Not when staying means I can do this every day."

Charlie's lips twitched at that and though Hermione didn't think it were possible, his gaze grew even hotter as he stared at her.

"You like him?" Charlie asked, nodding towards the slumbering dragon.

Hermione nodded her head slowly, smiling widely as she leaned upon the ferocious beast.

"The one we rode out of Gringotts didn't feel like this when we touched him," Hermione admitted softly.

"He'd been kept chained too long," Charlie nodded in agreement, "Chained and half-starved and living in that dank place so far from the skies, that old Ironbelly was almost dead before you lot liberated him. Rhydian is still strong and healthy, though currently suffering scale-rot. You should feel the magic inside them when they're completely healthy."

"I'd like that," Hermione told him, smiling widely at Charlie and giggling just a bit when Rhydian snorted in his sleep and shifted slightly, his back leg kicking as he dreamed.

Charlie took her hand, tugging her away from the dragon before the great beast rolled completely, almost crushing them both in the process.

"He's restless today," Charlie commented without releasing her hand as they both backpedalled out of the dragon's space.

"You said breeding season began last night," Hermione pointed out, "Maybe he's feeling the stirrings?"

Charlie tore his eyes from the dragon to look down at her for a moment, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at one corner of him mouth.

"Probably," he murmured, "And that means they'll all be restless and stroppy today. We need to get a move on."

Hermione nodded her head, following Charlie once more as he released her to begin wheeling their barrows towards the dung pile once more.

"Gloves on and grab you shovel, Hermione," Charlie told her when they were close enough to the pile.

Hermione looked on, her whole body throbbing once more as she watched the muscles in his bare arms work when he swung the barrel to the ground. Merlin, Hermione wanted to feeling those arms flexing around her. She wanted to press herself against the length of his body as she'd done last night whilst drunk and she wanted to find out just how much fire Charlie Weasley had inside of him.

"Is this the part where I'm expected to vomit?" Hermione asked, scolding herself silently for her lustful thoughts. She just had to squash those feelings back down until Charlie was no longer her boss.

"Get closer and take a big whiff," Charlie replied, grinning at her wickedly and nodding her towards the dung heap.

Hermione took a deep breath as she donned her gloves, sternly lecturing herself inside her mind on how she would not be beaten by the likes of a pile of dung and how she was made of stronger stuff than any other girl she knew, except perhaps Ginny. Squaring her shoulders, Hermione took up her shovel and stomped closer to the pile of dung.

And sweet Merlin, they'd been right. The stench was foul. She could practically feel the heat coming off the pile and the scent was thick and wretched, but Hermione refused to let it beat her. She recoiled only slightly at the smell before clamping down on her muscles and refusing to let herself back away. Twisting her shovel in her hands, Hermione walked all the way up to the pile and speared the shovel into the pile, scooping up a big, heaping load of it before turning right back around and carrying it to the barrel, where she dumped it inside.

Charlie was watching her with amusement glittering in his eyes and Hermione raised one eyebrow at him.

"They thought this would scare me away?" Hermione asked seriously, "Clearly they've never smelled Harry Potter's socks after living for months on end in a tent with the sod."

Charlie's expression turned to shock for just a moment, before he began to laugh, the sound bubbling up inside his chest and spilling free. Hermione found herself grinning as she listened to him chuckling at her words. Turning back to the pile once more, Hermione let her roiling stomach remain clamped and tense to keep from vomiting until she adjusted to the smell as she got to work. Kicking her shovel into the dung heap once more, Hermione scooped and dumped the foul stuff into its barrel until Charlie joined her, similarly scooping without complaint.

He was silent as he worked but for the occasional chuckle when a particularly nasty discovery in the middle of the heap made Hermione clamp her hand over her mouth and couch repeatedly as she fought the urge to vomit several long minutes later. Hermione found she rather enjoyed working with him, even if she was just shovelling. She liked watching the way he moved, and it intrigued her when he would pause mid-shovel to examine anything he thought might be out of the ordinary in the dragon's dung.

"Do me a favour, yeah?" Charlie asked when they'd finally shovelled the entire dung heap into the barrel, "Levitate this over and sit it outside the enclosure while I give Rhydian a once over before we look at his scales and do his medicines?"

Hermione nodded, accepting her orders readily as she laid down her shovel and did as she was told. When she was finished, she walked slowly towards where Charlie had begun climbing on the slumbering beast. Literally. He'd climbed up one of Rhydian's legs and was walking along the dragon's back, examining his scales.

"Do I get to do that too?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide as she watched him.

Charlie glanced down at her for a moment.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Come on up here, I want to show you what to be on the lookout for. Bring up the bucket with the metal brushes and the scale-wash in it, could you?"

Hermione did as she was told, grabbing the bucket and beginning to climb up Rhydian's back leg. She squealed when the dragon suddenly began kicking it while she was climbing and Charlie began to laugh at her. Hermione clung to Rhydian's foot for dear life until the kicking stopped.

"You're supposed to climb from the front legs," Charlie told her, "They kick the back ones, and never try to climb from the tail. You'll end up eating shit and falling on your face in the dirt, every time. If you do it to a Horntail, they'll spike you too."

"Right," Hermione commented, storing the information away.

"You alright?" Charlie asked, watching her as she walked unsteadily up Rhydian's back, a bit shaken.

"It's a bit higher that I thought it would be," Hermione admitted.

"You're afraid of heights, aren't you?" he confirmed.

Hermione nodded, "I am, but I'll be fine. I can do this."

He watched her for a moment as she came towards him,

"What?" she asked when he kept staring at her, "I _can_ do it."

Charlie's lips twitched, "I have no doubt, Hermione."

Hermione felt a pleasant warmth simmering in her blood at his words. She beamed at him for a moment before offering him the bucket, recalling that she was meant to be learning how to be a Dragon Tamer, not daydreaming about leaning over and kissing that crooked little grin from his lips.

"Alright, show me the scale rot and how to treat it," she smiled at the wizard and he smiled back at her, "We've got, like, fifty more dragons to handle today."

Charlie nodded his head in agreement, continuing to watch her for a moment longer even as he took the bucket from her hand.

"This part will likely make you vomit, Hermione," he warned her quietly, "Fair warning."

"I'll be fine," Hermione assured him.

She wasn't fine. When Charlie led her a little further up Rhydian's back to his right shoulder and the back of the reptile's neck, Hermione laid eyes on the extent of the scale-rot he was suffering.

The stench of rotting flesh was putrid and Hermione's stomach heaved violently. Clamping a hand over her mouth, Hermione refused to look away. Pus oozed from under many of the scales, some of them bloodied, others squishy like jelly and souring to a wretched shade of yellow instead of the bright, emerald green they were supposed to be.

"You alright?" Charlie asked, not even trying to hide his grin when Hermione gagged.

Hermione nodded stubbornly, refusing to let this get the better of her.

"I…" Hermione took her hand form her mouth before clapping her hand over it once more and trying to hold back the vomit, her eyes closing for a minute.

"Give it a minute. It gets easier," Charlie offered kindly, tucking one of her curls behind her ear that had fallen free of her hair elastic during the shovelling, "I need you to pull it together. Vomit if you have to, but I've got to show you how to treat it, so I need you paying attention, Hermione."

Hermione nodded her head, her eyes still closed for a moment before she reached for the steely resolve that had gotten her through being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and had seen her survive Antonin Dolohov's curse. She could do this. A little rotting flesh was nothing compared to some of the more disgusting things in life.

"Alright," Hermione said, blinking her eyes open and pulling her hand from her mouth, snagging hold of her resolve firmly and meeting Charlie's gaze unflinchingly, "Show me what to do."

She thought her knickers might go up in flames when Charlie held her gaze for a long moment before he whispered, "There's my girl."


	5. Chapter 5: Smoulder

**A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter written. The muse was refusing to cooperate. Anyway, thanks ever so much to all of you who read and review. You're amazing.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Smoulder**

* * *

By lunchtime, Hermione was tired. She was relatively sure she'd never be able to wash herself clean of the myriad of new smells that seemed to cling to the insides of her nostrils, determined to make her throw up. She was certain she understood why many of the other rookies who turned up at the Dragon Sanctuary in Dragonsmeade had thrown in the towel and been on their way.

The sight of so many dragons up close – she'd had to climb all over more than half of them inside their enclosures in the sanctum already – was just barely outweighing the wretchedness of playing with all the dragons in the Sanctum. Charlie and the others had been right. Dealing with the dragons in the sanctum – those that were sick, injured, nesting, or too dangerous to be kept out in the wide expanse of the reserve – was much harder than she imagined it would be to play with the healthy dragons away in the mountains beyond the village dedicated to their care.

She was tired and cranky. She was sore from all the shovelling and from the fact that the last cage they'd cleaned before Charlie announced it was time for lunch, had resulted in her being bucked off the back of a grumpy Ridgeback with a nasty wound from a recent fight. Indeed, by the time lunch was suggested, the only thing keeping her from complaining and keeping her from deciding she only wanted to be a researcher, not a qualified Dragon Tamer – something she'd decided she wanted to do so that she would be taken more seriously in the field if she had firsthand knowledge and experience with the beasts, rather than just research notes – was Charlie.

The way he looked when he was sweet-talking a cranky, fire-breathing dragon into not roasting him alive while he treated their wounds. The way his arms looked in his sleeveless shirt while he wielded his shovel or wheeled his barrow or lifted parts of the dragon that he needed a better look at. The way he'd called her 'his girl' when she'd restrained the urge to vomit. All of it kept her going until he announced it was time to eat.

"You alright?" he asked, shooting her a smirk as though he knew how much her arms were aching and how her feet and her back were killing her.

"I'm good," Hermione nodded, rolling her neck to try and relieve some of the aches in her shoulders.

"You're going to be dead on your feet before we knock off," Charlie corrected, looking amused. "But you're doing really well with everything so far. The team will be devastated when they find out you haven't hurled, even once."

"I definitely would have if not for that hangover potion," Hermione assured him, chuckling to herself. "They have a suppressant in them that helps dull the urge to vomit. And it was close with Rhydian."

"It was," he agreed. "But only for a minute. Your hands hurting yet?"

Hermione winced at the mention of her hands. The number of things they were playing with meant she'd been wearing dragon-hide gloves to protect her skin all morning, but they were still stinging inside the gloves as sweat worked its way against the blisters that had formed and popped upon her skin.

"How bad are they?" Charlie asked, obviously catching her wince. He strode in front of her and blocked her path, holding both hands out to her in silent demand to let him see them.

Hermione didn't want to let him. She knew that in order to build up calluses to avoid having them hurt like this every day, she wouldn't be able to do anything to heal them. She also suspected they had bled a bit and that taking off the gloves was going to peel away with parts where the gloves were stuck in the scabs and she didn't want to do that either. But when she looked up and met Charlie's gaze, she felt her hands lifting of their own accord, waiting for him to take them off of her.

He peeled them from her hands carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly when Hermione winced and hissed between her teeth as the skin tore, leaving her palms bloody. She watched him eye them for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly.

"You're going to end up with rough calluses in this job, you know?" he asked her seriously, glancing up at her.

"I know," Hermione nodded, closing her fists to stem the flow of blood from the little tears in her skin.

Charlie brow furrowed a little more as he stared into her eyes for a minute. She could tell that he could see her determination and her resolve to not let the pain bother her. That he wanted her to be able to do the job without having to injure herself to achieve it. He opened his mouth like he might say something before frowning deeper and closing it again. Hermione watched him as he fought between the urge he undoubtedly had to treat her like she was someone he needed to look out for and protect, and like she was a newbie in a difficult job that needed to prove herself without being coddled.

When he reached out and snagged hold of the back of her neck before pulling her towards him, Hermione held her breath. She was positive she smelled wretched and that she was probably offending his nose. She was pretty sure that his hand would now be soggy from touching her there, the back of her neck damp with sweat from the hard morning in the hot sun. If Charlie minded, however, he didn't let on and Hermione felt her stomach riot with butterflies when he pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to the middle of her forehead.

"Hang in there," he murmured.

"Can I ask you something?" Hermione asked, fighting the urge she had to lean against him

"Shoot," he nodded, releasing his hold on her and stepping back to maintain an appropriate distance between co-workers.

"Why do we actually have to shovel?" Hermione asked him. "Wouldn't it make more sense and save time to simply levitate the piles of dungs into the barrels?"

Charlie blinked at her for a moment.

"I mean, I know that actually shovelling is good for building the strength needed to play with ten tonne beasts," Hermione rushed on to say when he eyed her in silence. "And I know that using the shovel means you're up close and personal with the dung, meaning you're more likely to notice any anomalies that shouldn't be there. But with the right levitation charm, it could be funnelled into the barrels without the need for actually wielding a shovel. Any of those anomalies would still be caught – would even be more easily spotted, because the dung would be separating and sliding past your eyes, rather than having the shoveller go into autopilot thanks to the repetitive nature of the activity."

Charlie held up a hand to cease her words before Hermione could continue to justify her idea to him. Hermione bit her lip, feeling torn between falling silent like he wanted and the need to explain her idea properly.

"More than a hundred years this place has been running," Charlie began quietly, "and it takes you turning up to find a simple solution to the most time-consuming part of the bloody day."

"Um... Did no one think of a levitation charm before now?" Hermione asked. Her brow furrowed at the way he looked rather liked he'd been slapped across the face.

"Plenty of us thought it, I imagine," Charlie shrugged. "But no one has asked if it's not a decent idea. Hell, when I did my training I remember thinking things would be faster with charms to do the job. But my mentor would've eaten me alive for making a peep, let alone suggesting a way to - as he would've put it - 'slack off'."

"I don't want you to think I'm looking to slack off, Charlie," Hermione rushed to say.

"No. I don't think that. I think you've spotted an easy solution to the problem. I imagine that, like I did, most blokes bite their tongue on the idea of charms to handle the dung as a matter of pride, or a result fear of whoever is training them. And I'm pretty sure the girls who come through this place don't suggest it because they don't want anyone to think they can't do whatever the men can do, you know? Point of pride and all that? So we all put it out of our heads after the first week or so and get used to the shovelling. But you're right. It's faster, it's more effective for checking the content of the dung and it's a hell of a lot easier."

"It does have the drawback of preventing me from using the shovelling as a strength building exercise to make sure I don't get eaten alive by a dragon," Hermione said.

"Well, yeah," Charlie shrugged his shoulder once more. "But a tiny little thing like you isn't going to ever have enough strength to wrestle a fully grown dragon, no matter how much shovelling you do."

"So… should we try it?" Hermione asked when Charlie looked pensive for several long minutes.

"Sure. After lunch. I'll get you something for those blisters too, come on." Charlie gave her that wild-eyed look of his before sauntering off down the walkway that led towards the exit of the Sanctum where the sick, injured and pregnant dragons were kept.

Hermione followed after him, a little smile on her face as she appreciated the view as he went.

 **~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Alright, Granger. Truth time," Caroline said when she and Charlie joined the rest of the Tamers at what was apparently their usual lunch spot – the same café where Hermione had purchased her breakfast.

"Oh?" Hermione raised one eyebrow at the other woman before taking a big bite out of her sandwich.

"How many times have you barfed this morning?" Caroline wanted to know.

"Not even once," Hermione said proudly, lifting her chin as she met the gazes of the others.

"Bullshit!" Jason said. "No way haven't you barfed. You were headed in to work on Rhydian when I left you two. Scale rot gets the best of even the most iron-stomached newbies."

"It almost did," Hermione shrugged. "Then I pulled it together. Ask Charlie. I haven't vomited all day."

Everyone looked over at Charlie, who happened to be wolfing down his own sandwiches as though he hadn't eaten in a week. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"Yes!" Caroline fist-pumped the air. "Sid, you owe me five Galleons!"

"Blast it all, Granger! I was counting on you to have a weak stomach!" Sid grumbled, fishing a few coins out of his pocket and tossing them to Caroline.

"You caught the fire yet, Granger?" Jason wanted to know.

"Not yet," Hermione shook her head. "They must like me, for now. Or they're on their best behaviour while Charlie's showing me what to do and are going to turn into demons the minute I have to go it alone."

"Bet on the second one," Greg spoke up, also handing some coins to Caroline.

"Well, that's… comforting," Hermione gulped when the rest of the Tamers nodded in agreement with Greg's words.

"Nah, you learn to watch 'em pretty easy. Ten tonne balls of unpredictability and enough crank to melt the flesh right off your bones? Hard not to, really," Sid attempted to comfort her. "You'll get the hang of it. So, you haven't hurled, but I reckon those dust stains have a story behind them?"

Hermine glanced down at her jeans which did, indeed, have stains on them from when she'd taken the tumble from a dragon's back.

"I got bucked off the Ridgeback with the infected battle wound when we were trying to clean it up and patch it over," Hermione admitted sheepishly, brushing at the dirt as though to hide the evidence of her fall. "Seems the disinfectant stings a bit."

"Bet you're feeling partially deaf from being roared at, too?" Caroline smirked at her.

Hermione nodded.

"You got to watch them Ridgeback's. Cranky bastards at the best of times," Sid nodded wisely.

"What happened to you anyway?" Charlie asked, eyeing Sid – who was baring even more bandages today than he'd sported last night at the pub.

"Freya got a bit cross with me when I was trying to dig her expired tracker out of her back," Sid shrugged before wincing at the movement.

"Freya?" Hermione raised one eyebrow.

"One of my Ironbellies," Sid nodded. "Usually she's sweet as pie. My best breeder, in fact. But she was stroppy today thanks to the migration instinct taking over as of last night. They were all stroppy, of course, but I got too comfortable on her back digging the tracker out and she caught me with her claws."

"Ouch," Hermione winced.

"And you?" Caroline asked. "Have you had any trouble with the Sanctum dragons thanks to the migration urge?"

Hermione looked at Charlie. Being her first day, she couldn't rightly say what was or wasn't unusual for the dragons when it came to behaviour. Especially for sick dragons.

Charlie tipped his head to one side, thinking about it for a few long minutes.

"They're a bit off," he said finally. "More than usual. Not really cranky, though. Just a bit out of sorts. The sickness they're in the sanctum for might be making them a bit edgy with migration urges happening. It's not uncommon for the sick ones to hole up in a cave to heal, in the wild, so they might just be wanting to lay low. The Ridgebacks were downright docile, actually, all things considered."

Hermione frowned at the idea. The Ridgebacks had given her the most trouble all morning because they'd been cranky. They'd all been in for wounds sustained from fighting with each other or fighting with other dragons and so they'd all been stroppy when they'd needed bandages changed and disinfectant applied to their bites and cuts. That Charlie was describing them as docile made her nervous at the idea of soon needing to look after them on her own.

"Probably focusing their energy on healing so they can get back out there and begin breeding," Sid commented.

Charlie nodded thoughtfully before spearing Hermione with a look that made her insides clench with need. Merlin, no one had a right to look so enticing whilst munching on a half-eaten sandwich. He didn't say anything, he just observed her carefully, as though she were an intriguing puzzle. Hermione tried not to squirm under the smouldering weight of his gaze, reminding herself that he was currently her boss and that she could not, under any circumstance, risk her position at the Sanctuary just because Charlie was hotter than sin.

"You got much more to handle in the sanctum today?" Greg asked of Charlie.

"Few more. I've got to get my dragons in the field sorted before they even think about starting to fight or to migrate," Charlie nodded.

Hermione noted that he looked slightly worried, as though he were concerned for the dragons under his care. She resolved to get the job done faster; to work harder to make sure he didn't feel any more pressure than he had to. Polishing off her lunch hungrily, Hermione ordered a pot of tea from Suzy at the counter and slurped it down when it was brought to her.

She was going to need her strength and her wits about her, it seemed. They still had a few cages in the Sanctuary to clean and she suspected all the caged dragons would eventually need their trackers changed and a number of injections to ensure they'd heal faster and be ready for breeding season. Being that they were locked in, they could probably wait for the trackers, but nonetheless, such things would need doing.

Charlie had also promised that he would take her by the Nursery, where all the newly hatched babies were reared. She was looking forward to seeing the pint-sized versions of the massive beasts she'd been climbing all over all morning. Knowing Charlie was anxious to handle his own dragons, and that he was likely stressed with the number of extra responsibilities that had landed on his plate, she wanted to make sure she did everything to make things easier for him.

"Rearing to go?" Caroline smiled when Hermione finished her tea and looked around, wondering if she was meant to wait for everyone to finish before getting back to work.

"Honestly, I think if I sit for too long, my legs might give out when I stand back up," Hermione laughed, causing the other Tamers to grin knowingly.

"Probably true. You'll fall into bed tonight and sleep like the dead," the other witch chuckled. "I recommend a hot shower to bathe the stink off, followed by wallowing in an ice bath for an hour if you can spare it. Be careful, mind. If you sit there too long, you might doze off and get frostbite. I'll check on you, to make sure you're all right."

"Really?" Hermione smiled at the other girl, thinking that she seemed friendly and open to the idea of a newbie joining their ranks. The others had all been friendly, except Amy, but it was nice to know someone other than Charlie would be willing to look out for her.

"Of course," Caroline nodded. "Can't have you losing one of those dainty little feet to the cold, no can we?"

"I'd make a terrible whingy cripple," Hermione agreed, making the other witch laugh again.

"Oi, Charlie, you want us to start inoculations today, or handle the trackers first?" Greg asked. "I've been doing trackers all morning, and their bloody feisty with the change in seasons. Figured I'd do them first so that if they take off for migration, we can locate them and dose them later."

"Probably for the best. Don't think we've got enough product to dose them all at the moment anyway. Not until we get the next shipment," Charlie said.

"I'm going to need help later, whenever you lot are free," Jace spoke up. "Jezabell's gearing up to nest. I caught her this morning trying to begin building one. I reckon if we can get her moved into the Sanctum before she lays, everything will be a lot calmer."

"No worries, mate," Charlie nodded. "You can't just fly her in?"

"Don't reckon she'll let me, but I'll give it a go. She's stroppy with me today," Jace shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you tell her she was fat?" Sid asked. "Cindy gets right cranky when I tell her how fat she's getting with those eggs building inside her."

"When you say things like that, I understand all over again why you get injured so often, you bloody fool," Caroline laughed.

Hermione smiled softly as she peered around the lunch table, watching the friends and colleagues bicker and taunt each other, offering advice and casual fun to pass the time and ensure that everyone knew what was going on and how things were fairing for them. She liked the camaraderie, she realised. It felt almost like being back at Hogwarts when Fred and George had still been there, telling jokes, making plots, sharing wild tales and otherwise entertaining the lot of them at Gryffindor table.

Sitting there with the Tamers right then felt a bit like that, the way her friends had been before the war had ripped their lives apart. She felt a pang of sadness over what they'd all lost, and a tingle of hope that she might find some of that happiness again with the Tamers, her new colleagues and friends in a job she was actually rather enjoying.

"Alright," Charlie said when he polished off his fourth sandwich. "Let's get back to it, you lot. Keep your radios on in case any calls come in. I reckon we'll start seeing them soon with the migration on. Jace, let us know if you need a hand with Jezabell, or if you can fly her on in, give a shout so we can open the roof in one of the nesting chambers."

The group packed up their lunches and set off again, Hermione following Charlie and laughing when the others ribbed her, saying she was going to hurl after lunch and that she'd be passed out well before pints that night at the pub.

 **~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Shoot!" Charlie Weasley cursed. "Come on, Azrael, don't be like that. It's just a couple of seconds of sting and then you'll be in bliss for hours, I swear. Dang it, you great shiny brute, I need that foot to walk!"

Hermione climbed the cranky Opal-Eye dragon and peeled the bandages off his shoulder while Charlie was unceremoniously grabbed up in sharp claws and dangled by his right leg while the dragon roared in his face.

"Oi, not so loud, yeah?" Charlie kept sweet-talking. "I know you've got a great singing voice, but up this close you can croon to me real soft and I'll love you all the more. No, don't look at her, she's just a pretty little thing who's going to make you all better, Az. Come on now."

Hermione glanced up at the dragon's head to see his arched neck had curved around and his iridescent purple and blue opal-eyes were fixed on her. She cringed as she poured the disinfectant on the wound, earning a hiss for the sting and almost choking on a puff of smoke blown in her face.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione asked the dragon softly, smoothing a comforting hand over the scales at the wing joint next to where she sat to tend the wound. "I'm just going to wipe off some of this excess…. Oh, no."

"What?" Charlie asked. "Az, buddy? Could you put me down? The pretty lady needs help and you're hurting my leg with your impressively sharp talons."

"It's…" Hermione's stomach heaved and she looked up at Charlie where he still dangled, upside-down, from the dragon's claw.

"Scale-rot?" Charlie guessed, recognising the expression.

"It's starting to set in," she nodded.

"Damn it!" he growled. "I told you, Azrael! I told you that if you kept licking the damn wound and peeling your bandage off, it would get infected."

Azrael roared at him again before dropping him on his head. Charlie was expecting it and he rolled on impact, springing back to his feet and hurrying forward. Hermione summoned the metal brush and the bucket of scale-rot treatment from the gate of the enclosure.

"Don't," Charlie warned just a moment too late when Hermione poured the wash over the wound and began to scrub.

Dragon fire, Hermione learned, felt like plunging into a tub-full of ice right before the burn kicked up. She caught the fire Azrael breathed at her and she didn't even register the pain enough to scream until well after she'd been bucked off the back of the dragon to land in a heap on the enclosure floor. When the pain did register, Hermione understood, with alarming clarity, why all the Tamer kept their jobs and why Charlie was so obsessed with dragon-fire.

It hurt like nothing she'd ever felt before, in such a way that she couldn't even begin to describe it. It burned. It froze. It stung and it ached. It seared and it melted and it somehow felt like everything good and bad in the world, all at once. Indeed, it reminded her of that sweet, pulsing throb of energy that shot through her body just before an orgasm would crash over her during sex.

It felt good. It felt weird. It also hurt like all buggery when she landed on the ground and scraped the blistering skin of her right hip on the rough dirt. She screamed at the feel of the raw skin dragging over foreign matter and she had to roll and keep rolling despite the pain because Azrael was on his feet and trying to stomp her into the ground, like Hermione might've with a cockroach.

"Hermione, get out of there!" Charlie shouted, running up Azrael's back – somehow keeping his balance as the dragon bucked and stomped about on a rampage – and leaping towards the dragon's mouth. He latched his arms tight around Azrael's narrow snout, swinging from his face and preventing the dragon from spewing more fire over Hermione.

Adrenaline kicked Hermione in the teeth and watching Charlie swing from the beast's snout sparked her own reckless courage. Twirling her wand, she Summoned the dropped tools for treating scale rot, Apparated onto Azrael's back and straddled his wing joint.

"Are you mad!? He's rampaging, Hermione. We need to get out of here before he kills us both!" Charlie shouted, still dangling from the beast's nose, his arms locked tight to prevent more fire from escaping.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and scrubbed hard at the small section of scale-rot where it had just begun to infect a small patch. She dragged the metal brush over it until the rotted skin was gone and then she poured more of the wash over the wound, using her wand to wind bandages around the beast's belly, holding them in place with Sticking charms and putting a hex on them for good measure, designed to zap Azrael if he tried to burn, bite or claw the bandage off. When she was done, she Disapparated to the gate, calling out to Charlie to do the same.

She landed just in time to watch Charlie bravely let go of the snout, almost catching the fire himself when it exploded out of the now rampaging dragon. He Disapparated in mid-air, arriving next to her and hauling on her arm to pull her through the door. He slammed it behind them just as Azrael spewed fire all over his entire enclosure, roars of rage and fury escaping him. Charlie gripped her shoulders tight, pinning her to the wall outside the gate and staring, wide-eyed, into her face.

He was breathing hard and he looked torn between screaming at her for being a fool, and shouting with glee over what she'd done. Hermione stared back, breathing hard herself and wincing against the pain in her hip that grated over her senses, overruling the dissipating adrenaline in her system.

Before she could make a sound, arguing in her defence should he yell at her, or screaming in agony before he'd get the chance, Charlie pinned her to the wall, leaned down and snogged her hard on the mouth.


	6. Chapter 6: Sizzle

**A/N: Thanks ever so much for all your support. Sorry for the long wait after that nasty cliffhanger on the last chapter. I can't wait to see what you make of this chapter. Much love for all the reviews.**

 **xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Sizzle**

* * *

Hermione kissed him back hungrily, devouring his lips and sweeping her tongue against his needily. The kiss distracted fabulously from the pain of her burn and she had been craving the chance to snog Charlie Weasley since she'd been seventeen years old.

It was everything it had always promised to be and more. Like she'd caught the fire all over again, an icy sort of burn spread through her, clouding her thoughts and filling her with need. Charlie's tongue swept against her own roughly, stroking surely, licking hungrily. He held her tight, keeping his hands on her shoulders but refusing to lean into her in case he hurt her. Hermione didn't even think about it as she lifted her hands, tangling them in his hair and kissing him back.

She was aware that they were both injured; that he was currently her boss and she wasn't supposed to be snogging him because someone like Amy would use it to get her disqualified from the Dragon program. But Merlin, she'd waited so long to snog him that she couldn't stop now. He tasted like the chicken sandwiches he had for lunch and he didn't smell all that great thanks to the long day they'd both spent practicing physical labour. But sweet Circe, the feel of his lips against hers was enough to make her forget the pain she was in for just a few minutes.

She snogged him silly until he jerked back just as suddenly as he'd kissed her when a soft whimper tore from her lips. His eyes were wild as he stared at her for a moment before a frown marred his brow.

"You caught the fire," he said, frowning. "And you're... How are you not screaming?"

Hermione tried to smile bravely, wanting him to kiss her all over again if it would just distract from the pain of the burn on her side for a few more minutes.

"I'm going to," she warned tightly, her whole body beginning to tremble as she fought the urge to scream her throat raw when the burn tingled and throbbed and stung so terribly that it was a wonder she hadn't passed out from the pain. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss Charlie again, not just because it helped with the pain but also because kissing him felt like catching the fire all over again and it was already an addiction.

"Come on," he said, still gripped her shoulders tight as he Disapparated them across the Sanctum and into a medical room. He lifted her by her shoulders, setting her down on the medical bench and the pain of it tore the first scream from Hermione's lips.

Healers came running at the sound, making her realise he'd taken her to the medical centre to get her patched up properly, rather than risking it himself.

"Fuck," Charlie muttered, stepping back far enough to let the healers have access to her while she screamed. He stumbled as he moved back and one of the healers caught him, pointing toward his ankle which was pouring blood all over the hospital floor.

Incoherent with the pain as she screamed, Hermione lost track of Charlie and of several minutes when she was dosed with Calming Draught and a Pain Potion before she was treated with burn salve, the healers cutting away her melted jeans and leaving her bare but for the sheet they laid over her privates. By the time the potions took effect, Hermione's throat ached and she'd torn bloody gashes in her already damaged palms, her nails biting into the flesh painfully.

"What kind of dragon caught you with the fire, Hermione?" a healer asked her, frowning into her face when she stopped screaming long enough to be questioned.

"Azrael. Antipodean Opal-Eye," Hermione told him.

"Did he only catch you the once?" the healers asked her, his brow furrowed deeply.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed, feeling something else sliding through her veins to calm her further. "He bucked me off, too. And tried to stomp me. Cranky bastard."

She heard Charlie laughing from somewhere and turned her head slowly, trying to find him. He was sitting on a gurney next to hers, his ankle being bandaged while he downed a glass of orange juice to help with the blood loss.

"Bloody hell," the healer grumbled, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You Tamers are all the same! She's not even angry at the beast!"

Hermione snorted. "I'd be pretty cranky at you if you tried to scrape my rotted flesh off without anaesthetics. Probably hex you, if I could."

"A scale-rot case, then?" the healers asked.

"Az has been licking his wounds too much," Charlie confirmed.

"He won't lick them or get those bandages off anymore," Hermione told him, smirking. "Every time he tries, he'll get a nasty zap."

"You... you finished the job? Did you catch the fire on the way out or something?" the healer - whose name-tag read "Jack" - asked, frowning again.

"She's crazy," Charlie accused of Hermione. "Rolled out of the way while I was swinging from Azrael's snout to keep her from being burned to a crisp and having already caught the fire then climbed back up on that dragon while he was rampaging, scraped all the scale rot off and bandaged him up before getting out of there. She didn't start screaming until I got her in here."

The Healers all stared at her as though she were nuts but Hermione just shrugged. "Adrenaline," she offered by means of explanation.

"She's worse than you, Weasley!" Jack the healer accused. "Why are you training anyone? You make them as crazy as you and then my job is harder!"

"Don't pretend I don't make your life interesting, mate," Charlie grinned. "Hermione, you alright, love?"

Hermione smiled, though she was sure it was a bit goofy because the pain medication they'd given her. Frowning that they wanted to drug her up all afternoon, Hermione, turned her attention away from Charlie - no matter the charming distraction he happened to be - to focus back on the healer.

"What are you giving me?" she asked. "You need to lower it. It's making me feel loopy and I want to get back to it as soon as I'm patched up."

The healers around her all frowned and she heard Charlie chuckle softly from the other gurney.

"This is your fault, Weaslwy!" Healer Jack snapped, looking annoyed. "Listen Granger, you just caught the fire for the first time. You need pain medication or you're going to scream again when this stuff wears off."

"Didn't you patch it well enough?" she asked, frowning. "Let me see..." she started pulling at the bandages. Strong hands caught hers.

"Miss Granger, I really must insist that you don't unravel my hard work," Healer Jack said sternly.

"I really must insist on completing the days' work," Hermione replied sweetly. "So either lower my dosage if you think the wound is sufficiently healed enough that I can do so, or heal it better so that you _can_ lower my dosage."

"Hermione," Charlie smiled gently form the other bed. "You don't have to finish up the day. Not when you've caught the fire."

"I want to," Hermione frowned at him. "One little burn isn't enough to stop me. And you promised you take me to the Nursery to see the babies. I'd rather do so while coherent, rather than loopy on medication."

"Stubborn," he accused.

"This, from you?" she arched one eyebrow. "How many of last night's wounds did you tear open whilst swinging from Azrael's snout?"

"All of them," he admitted.

"And you're going back to work this afternoon. So hush up. I'm coming, too, and that's final," Hermione told him, earning a small grin and one of those smouldering, wild-eyed looks that made her tingle.

"Tamers are all mad," Jack muttered. "Fine. You want to go back to work this afternoon and risk getting hurt again, that's just fine by me. But when you rip the skin open and everything hurts and you're whimpering in agony, you just remember that I suggested taking the afternoon off so you could actually heal."

Hermione rolled her eyes, watching the man peel her bandages open before applying more Burn Salve and covering her with a sticky bandage patch under the bandages. He continued to mutter as he worked.

"It will scar worse if you don't let it heal naturally, you know?" he informed her snidely, apparently deciding he didn't like her because she was proving to be another stubborn and pig-headed Tamer rather than cooperative towards properly allowing her body to heal before climbing back into the enclosures with the dragons.

Hermione shrugged. "I'll add it to my collection. Besides, I think I'd rather like a memento of the first time I caught the fire."

Charlie began to laugh again, this time wholeheartedly, while the Healers all shook their heads and muttered about crazy Tamers and how they needed to change careers to work with people who weren't so insistent on getting hurt all the time and wearing their scars like badges of honour.

"You'll be a bit groggy for the next hour. Take two of these every four hours to manage the pain and come back to the clinic if you rip the skin open or if you're stupid enough to get hurt again."

"Such a delightful bedside manner," Hermione pretended to compliment, rolling her eyes and accepting the bottle of pills. "Can someone give me some fresh jeans?"

"I'll apparate you to your hut if you wrap that sheet around you," Charlie offered and Hermione nodded, doing just that before slipping off the gurney and standing on her own. Her head swum with the effects of the pain medication but she shook it off as best she could. When she was ready, Charlie reached for her, taking her hand and Disapparating them both across the compound to her hut.

"You really don't have to come back to work this afternoon, Hermione," he told her when Hermione used her wand to unlock her hut and lead the way inside. "No one is going to think less of you for taking the afternoon off. It's quite the shock to the system the first time you get burned or clawed."

"I want to finish the day," she told him, hurrying down the hall and into her bedroom to fetch some fresh knickers and a new pair of jeans. "Besides, I really do want to see the babies, and I know you need my help to finish up in the Sanctum before heading into the field to check on all the healthy dragons under your charge."

"Yeah, but I can do it without you, love," he said, chuckling when Hermione hurried back out, still trying to wiggle into her jeans. "You don't get extra pay for working injured, you know."

"You need my help," she argued. "I know you've got more on your plate now, with the others out of commission after last night, and I know you're already stressing about it. If I can help, I will."

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know?" he said, eyeing her with one of those wild eyed looks that made her positively melt.

"I find it a useful trait when dealing with hot-headed Weasleys who think they know best," she replied.

Neither of them mentioned the kiss they'd shared and Hermione wondered if it had been some spur of the moment thing for him or if maybe she'd dreamed it whilst running to hot on adrenaline and pain. She wondered if he would acknowledge what had happened, or if he wanted to do it again as badly as she did.

"You realise that as your boss, I can order you to rest for the afternoon, yeah?" he lifted on eyebrow.

"You realise I'd find a way to get back to work even if you tried, yeah?" she challenged.

"You're trouble, Hermione Granger," Charlie informed her. "Come on, then. If you want to work, we'll work, but if you need to stop, just let me know, alright? I don't want you to burn out on your first day because you're pushing yourself to hard. I know how stubborn you are and how determined you can be to see something through, but I'd rather not risk your health if I don't have to. Don't want you quitting on us, eh?"

"As if I've ever quit anything in my life?" she scoffed. "Let's just get on with the day, please?"

Charlie nodded, walking back toward the door once Hermione had managed to stomp her feet back into her boots. When he reached it he put his hand on the handle before turning back to look at her, his eyes conflicted.

"Listen, Hermione, about that kiss..." he began, frowning a little, "You realise that until I'm not your boss, that can't..."

"Can't happen again. Yeah, I get it," Hermione sighed, her eyes dropping to his lips. "And I'm betting that you also can't be leading me back to your place drunk and letting me shower there and sleep over because otherwise Amy will have me thrown out of the program because she's a jealous, petty bitch who hates me just because you and I happen to have a history, I get it, Charlie."

"I just..." Charlie frowned a little deeper, turning to face her more fully for a moment and Hermione looked up at him, smiling in understanding and wondering how much of his suggestion related to making sure she kept her job and how much of it related to him not wanting to snog her again. "Just don't get the idea that I... you know what? Fuck it."

Hermione squeaked when he let go of the door handle, gripped her shirt and tugged her into him once more. When he lips found hers, Hermione was on fire with need and happiness and the pure giddy rush of kissing the man she'd been more than passingly infatuated with for years. She kissed him back hungrily, going up on her toes and tangling her hands in his loose red hair, pulling him down further for a kiss whilst pressing herself to him needily.

Charlie made a soft sound, leaning into the kiss, his hands finding her waist carefully and turning her, pressing her against the door and snogging her hungrily. Hermione felt shameless as she ground herself against him, wanting more than anything to strip right back out of her jeans and beg him to have his way with her right there against the door.

The brush of his tongue against hers was enough to drive her mad with desire and she rubbed herself against him insistently, furious that if they were caught, she'd likely be expelled from the program. Charlie kissed like the devil, his lips hot, his tongue wicked, his hands smoothing over the dip of her waist before gliding a little higher until he was cupping her breasts through her shirt. His hands were hot and Hermione groaned, arching her back, pushing into the touch with delight. Merlin's little green apples, she wanted him like she'd never wanted anything else in all her life.

She moaned softly when he broke from her lips, kissing his way across her cheek and along her jaw before dropping his lips to the sweet spot under her ear. Hermione's whole body sizzled with heat and with need and she desperately wanted him to ravish her right then.

"Fuck," Charlie muttered against her neck, nipping her lightly when Hermione ground herself against the growing bulge in his jeans.

"Charlie? You there, mate?" a voice suddenly intruded on the moment, emitting from the wizarding wireless transmitter radio strapped to Charlie's hip. "We got trouble."

Charlie groaned, dropping his forehead to rest it on Hermione's shoulder. His breath was coming a little fast and his hands were still kneading her breasts in a way that made her want to chuck the radio out the window.

"You know if I don't answer them, they'll think I've been killed in the Sanctum?" Charlie asked, his voice husky.

Hermione sighed.

"I know," she said. "If there's trouble, we'll have to deal with it."

"This life is nothing but trouble, you know that, right?" he asked, lifting his head from her shoulder and dropping his hands before stepping back from her. "I'd have had you last night if not for the trouble with Herc."

Hermione smiled slowly. The confirmation that he'd been planning to shag her – though she'd suspected as much when he'd been called away – made her feel all warm and happy inside. It also dampened her knickers.

"Maybe it's for the best that you're currently my boss," she admitted. "Otherwise we might both go mad at being continually interrupted by the trouble of playing with dragons."

Charlie sighed, tipping his head back for a moment as though trying to get a hold of his self-control.

"Until I'm not your boss I have to keep my hands to myself, Hermione," he said, looking back at her. "It's a piss-poor excuse, but Amy really is a vindictive little bitch who'll get you tossed from the program over her jealousy if she thinks we've fucked."

Hermione nodded, understanding even if she didn't have to like it.

"Charlie? You there?" the voice came through the radio again. It sounded like Sid. "I got big trouble, mate. I need help."

Charlie sighed.

"Go ahead, Sid," Charlie said, his eyes still on Hermione as he answered the call. "What's the problem?"

"I've got a Migration-Mad Horntail male – huge, biggest I've ever seen. He's in the back country with my Ironbelly females and he's… fuck, man…. He's mating most of them. He must be off his rocker, but he's mated at least five of these girls and he's wrecking them up pretty bad. He's huge, man. And vicious. They're attacking because he's the wrong breed and he's… well… at this rate we might end up with a new Horntail cross Ironbelly hybrid."

"Shit," Charlie sighed to Hermione, frowning. He held the radio to his mouth again.

"Alright, everyone get to the Ironbelly hills with whatever tranquilizing gear you've got. We'll see if we can relocate this chap to the Horntails. Sid, are the girls injured?"

"All five of them that have been mated are ripped up pretty bad," Sid said before the sound of a vicious roar in the background sounded. "He's going after Cinderella now and she's giving him a run for his money, big as she is, but there's no way we can let him go with the Horntail girls. He's been ripped up bad, too. They all need to be moved to the Sanctum."

"Fuck!" Charlie cursed. "Alright. Anyone who can swing by the supply cupboard get what we need to move seven new residents into the Sanctum."

"Got it, boss," several voices chimed in on their radios.

"Charlie?" a girl's voice came. "It's Tasha, listen, I'm with the Fireballs right now and they're pretty stroppy. Amy and I have got a female to bring into the Sanctum, too. She's busted her wing and if we leave her now, she's going to get herself killed. The males have been circling her and mating her all night because she can't fly away."

"Right," Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Bring her in as quickly as you can. Anyone else not going to make it to the Ironbellies?"

"Do you need my help, Charlie?" another voice asked.

"Saskia?" Charlie confirmed.

"That's right."

"Yeah, could you give us a hand to prep eight extra enclosures in the Sanctum? We'll get them ready for habitation, real quick, and then you can give us a hand with this Horntail problem."

"Alright, should I meet you at the biggest enclosure we have for the Horntails?" she asked.

"Yeah, do that. Hermione and I will be there in a minute. Everyone else, get your gear and meet us with the Ironbellies ASAP."

He clicked off the radio and furrowed his brow at Hermione, watching her rally her strength and her wits before she opened the door to her hut and strode out into the afternoon.

"Listen, Hermione," Charlie called after her before she could cross the porch. "I don't want you to be… you know, pissed off with me about all this."

Hermione stopped and turned back to him, Charlie colliding with her in his haste to catch up to her.

"I'm not angry with you," she smiled when he brought his hands up to catch her before she could fall backwards. "I get it. You're my boss, Amy's a bitch, and I'll get kicked out if we fool around. Believe me, I don't want to get kicked out."

"I just don't want you to think I'm… you know… saying all this as an easy let-down," Charlie said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking uncomfortable. "Because I'm not. If not for last night's interruption, I'd planned to seduce you out of your knickers, witch."

Hermione grinned.

"It wouldn't have been difficult," she told him. "But it's fine. I don't mind waiting. I mean, I've waited this long, right?"

She turned in his hold and set off again, her cheeks flushing when she realised what she'd just said. She didn't need Charlie to know just how long she'd been waiting for the chance to snog him silly.

"Wait…" Charlie said, his voice suddenly sharp and curious. "How long _have_ you waited?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, watching him stand there looking a little dumbstruck on her doorstep, like he was totally surprised by what she'd said. She grinned when he met her gaze, that wild-eyed look belying his curiosity. She didn't answer before Disapparating back over to the Sanctum, not willing to admit how long she'd wanted him when she didn't know if he was interested in just a quick shag and or something more.


	7. Chapter 7: Blister

**A/N: This chapter was actually a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoy it. Much love to everyone taking the time to review. You're angels.**

 **xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Blister**

* * *

Charlie was too busy dealing with the crisis to further question her about what she'd meant, and Hermione couldn't be more grateful. They were in full crisis mode with the Horntail attacking the Ironbellies and Charlie grew fierce when he was focused on his dragons. He'd apparated the pair of them over to the Sanctum and explained to her that they needed to prepare the enclosures for the arrival of injured dragons. That mostly meant ensuring the cages were clean and that there was sufficient water in them.

He'd pointed out the ones they needed ready and she, Saskia and Charlie himself had set about fixing them up as quickly as possible.

"Alright," he said, hurrying into the supply room with Hermione and Saskia on his heels when the enclosures were done. He began handing Hermione things, mostly protective gear, some healing instruments, and some serious looking sedatives to help calm the dragons enough to move them.

Hermione gulped when he handed her a broomstick. She'd almost forgotten about the need to fly when dealing with dragons and she wondered how badly her already poor flying skills might be effected by the amount of painkillers in her system thanks to her recent burn from Azriel. Tucking it under her arm, she held her hands out for the other things he gave her, squeaking in surprise when he turned to her with a belt and actually looped it around her, buckling it around her hips when he noticed how full her hands were.

"When we're in the field, I want you to be mostly apparating, Hermione," he told her. "The rest of us will be flying and trying to keep the dragons from fighting. You're going to apparate to whoever calls you and you're going to hand out tranquilizers and whatever else they ask for, got it? Usually this job falls to Samson since he's a bit of a rubbish flyer, but he's out so it'll fall to you. I want you to stay back as much as possible, Hermione. You're new to this and no matter how well you did with Az when you caught the fire, this is dragons out in the wild, full of rage and the need to mate. You stay clear, you got me? You've got enough meds rushing through your system to slow you down and I don't want to see you clawed, bitten or burned because your reaction times aren't what they should be or because you don't know what you're doing. Watch, help where you can when people shout out for supplies, but keep back as much as possible."

"Okay," Hermione agreed, relieved she wouldn't have to be flying.

"Trying to move one dragon on its own from the wild to the Santcum is hard enough. Six pissed off females and one highly dangerous and rampaging male in musth deep enough to attempt breeding outside his species is our version of a nightmare. Leave it to the professionals until you know what you're doing, yeah?"

Hermione nodded her head, knowing better than to needlessly endanger herself when it would be more of a hindrance than a help. Charlie flashed her a grin, stuffing things into the compartments and loops attached to her belt to better transport them so she'd still have her hands free to assist the others with whatever they might need. When everything was ready he nodded to Saskia, took Hermione's hand and Disapparated them both out of the Sanctum and into the wilds of the Romanian mountains.

Mayhem laid out before them when they arrived and Hermione jumped back when she and Charlie were both nearly crushed as the fighting dragons stumbled in their direction. The other Tamers were already on the site, having divided up the dragons between them to better ensure they might manage to subdue and transport the dragons as best as possible. It looked like two of the females – both terribly wounded and both roaring and furious with the Tamers attempting to heal them and herd them away from the battle – were being uncooperative. From the way they moved, Hermione could tell they'd each been given a sedative, but they still looked to be putting up a decent fight against the Tamers, wanting to protect themselves from the Horntail, and maybe even wanting revenge for being overpowered and mated.

"Help Caroline," Charlie said, his eyes scanning the scene. Hermione nodded, scanning too and spying Caroline trying to subdue a third female. She was badly wounded and roaring her fury at the idea of anyone getting so close when she was vulnerable. Hermione Apparated over to her, handing the Dragon Tamer sweet talking the angry beast a tranquiliser.

She scanned the wounded dragon with her eyes before slipping Caroline a bottle of disinfectant powder too, knowing the witch would need it if they were going to prevent this dragon from getting scale rot. A shout for more tranquilizer drew her gaze and Hermione apparated over to Sid where he was trying to sedate the Horntail. Cinderella – the big Ironbelly female - was putting up a good fight and ripping the male to shreds with her talons and her fangs, but she was also limping badly and weakening as blood flowed from her own wounds while the male relentlessly tried to pounce on her, trying to pin her under him so he could mate with her. She handed Sid what he wanted, flicking her wand at Cinderella and using some magic to heal some of her smaller wounds. The open gashes and tears might require more attention, but the little puncture marks from teeth and scrapes from the rocks they fought amongst could be dealt with.

"Hermione!" Charlie shouted, waving his arm from the far side of the Horntail, needing something. He was aboard his broom, zipping about wildly, trying to distract the dragons enough to get a good angle for sedation and Hermione apparated closer, holding up more sedative when she saw he was out. He took it and Hermione was surprised that this time he wasn't laughing or sweet talking the dragons like he'd been doing all day with them.

That alone told her how serious the damage must be and how bad this situation really was. He was worried and the very idea worried Hermione, too. A worried Charlie Weasley meant that things had gone to hell in a handbasket and some serious figuring was in order to fix things as soon as possible. When Greg shouted for help, Hermione apparated to him, wincing when she saw that he'd been caught with the claws when he'd managed to jam the sedation dart into the webbing between the Horntail's back toes.

"Shit!" he hissed when Hermione jerked him off his broom and behind a rock formation, hoping it might protect them from the fire blasts as the beasts battled. She used magic to try and heal the nasty gash on his forearm, knitting it back together with a healing charm, mending the broken bone, and then smearing it with dittany to close the skin before he could get dirt in it. She wrapped in in a bandage, using her wand quickly.

"Thanks," he grunted. "You're doing good, Granger. Help Caroline, now."

Hermione looked in the direction of the witch he mentioned, spying her struggling with a now extremely sedated looking Ironbelly female whose fight had gone out of her but whose instinct to protect herself reared its head. Hermione winced when she watched Caroline catch the fire – though the stream was small and weak. It glazed off her dragonhide uniform, but Hermione heard the faint shriek of agony that the witch emitted before she gritted her teeth, trying to soldier on.

Apparating over to her, Hermione jammed another sedative dart into the Ironbelly, watching the last of her strength leave her before she hurried to help Caroline.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Caroline was whimpering, pulling at one corner of her uniform, trying to get at the burn underneath. The flesh was blistered and bubbling, angry and red, and Hermione winced in sympathy at the sight of it, certain it was painful because she'd caught the fire herself just that afternoon and knew that it stung and ached and sizzled like nothing else.

"Let me help," Hermione said, pulling on Caroline's tunic to keep the rough material from touching the burn and digging a pot of burn salve out of her tool belt. Caroline whimpered when Hermione smoothed the slave over the blistered skin.

"Thanks, Hermione," she breathed when the relief began taking effect.

"Any time," Hermione smiled at the other woman, hoping that despite Caroline knowing Amy for longer, Caroline wouldn't take a disliking to her like Amy had. She opened her mouth, intent on saying something else, hoping to make a friend, but before she could, she heard Charlie shout and watched in horror as he was swatted out of the air by the now-sluggish, but still fighting Horntail

"Shit!" Caroline swore, watching him go down with a wince.

He leapt free of his broom – which Hermione noticed was on fire – and he rolled on impact as he hit the ground, barely managing to avoid landing under the swatted claw of the dragon as he stomped around in his fury, the sedative affecting his balance and coordination but not yet strong enough to keep him from trying to kill his rescuers.

Greg leaped back into the fray, stabbing another tranquilizer into the Horntail's thick hide and jumping clear when he breathed more fire, distracting the beast from Charlie long enough to keep him from being crushed. Hermione apparated to Charlie when he rolled to a stop, stretched out on his back and breathing hard. Her heart was racing inside her chest, fear thick in her blood and she scuttled to him frantically.

He didn't sit up and his eyes were closed as she reached him, though she could feel his heart hammering out and erratic beat inside his chest when she rested a hand on him.

"Charlie?" she asked. "Please be all right?"

He opened his eyes, looking dizzy and pained, but when he met her gaze his eyes were like glowing embers, fixed on her like she was the breath he needed to live. Hermione smiled at him when his lips twitched in greeting, apparently too pained for a smile, but pleased to see her just the same.

"Help me up, yeah?" he asked quietly when the Horntail turned, almost falling on them as he staggered.

Hermione gripped Charlie tightly and disapparated them both away far enough that they wouldn't be crushed.

"You ripped your wounds open again. You're not getting up until I've healed you," Hermione told him, pulling at his dragon hide tunic and noting the blood rapidly darkening his bandages.

"You'll rip yours too, if you're not careful," he warned.

"I'll be fine," Hermione assured him. "Hold still while I fix some of these."

She peeled him out of his tunic, too concerned by his wounds to pay any mind to his shirtlessness right then.

"Hermione?" Charlie asked quietly as she sliced open the bandages in her way and began pouring dittany all over him, watching the skin pull back together.

"What is it, Charlie?"

"Could you… uh… fix my legs," he said quietly.

"Your legs?" Hermione frowned in confusion before glancing at his legs and seeing the way both were bent at unnatural angles. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! Why didn't you say anything about those first?"

Charlie laughed, though it was a pained sound. Hermione flicked her wand, mending the bones and listening the sickening crunches as both of them reset. He groaned and closed his eyes at the sensation, but when he opened them he looked to be in slightly less pain.

"Just did," he smirked at her.

"If you weren't already hurt, I'd smack you for your cheekiness, Charles Weasley," Hermione informed him.

"I didn't know you were into spanking, love," he said, wincing when she waved her wand to search for more broken bones and found three more broken ribs.

"There are lots of things you don't know about me, Charlie," Hermione replied, her cheeks turning pink.

"Yet," he said. "Lots of things I don't know _yet_."

Hermione's stomach fluttered with a million butterflies at the heat in his gaze. She pressed her lips together, trying to hide her smile, but she failed even as she worked to heal the rest of him as best she could to stop the bleeding.

"Let's get you back on your feet," she said, taking his hand and putting away her wand as the remaining dragons were finally all sedated.

"Heal the others, if you can. We'll get these dragons boxed up and transport them easier if everyone is in decent enough health to levitate them all there," Charlie told her, taking her hand and letting her pull him to his feet before reaching for the tunic she'd stripped him out of.

"Try not to get hurt again, please," Hermione whispered, scanning the others with her eyes as she spoke. "It's much easier on me if you don't give me heart failure."

"You too, Hermione," Charlie grinned at her.

Hermione was smiling even as she apparated over to Saskia, who was leaning against the side of a sedated Ironbelly female and clutching her arm, tears streaming down her face.

"Let's take a look," Hermione said, smiling sympathetically at the witch.

"It's just a scratch," Saskia told her bravely.

Hermine blanched when Saskia held out the wounded appendage and revealed a dragon fang embedded in her forearm.

"And this was just love bite, right?" Hermione said sarcastically. "Listen, I'm going to yank it out and I want you to drink this."

She unstoppered a pain potion and gave it to the crying witch, before pulling the fang out of Saskia's arm to the sound of her scream.

"Fucking hell!" Greg said, skidding around the dragon at the sound. "Damn it, Kia! I thought you'd been crushed!"

Hermione glanced between the pair of them, suspecting they might fancy one another.

"Eat me, Greg," Saskia managed after gulping down the pain potion.

"What are you doing out of the Nursery? You know you're too much of a wuss to be out here with the big boys," Greg said and Hermione recognised the fire dancing between them.

Not lovers, yet. But prickly enough and silly enough to bicker in the lead up to the fall.

"Greg, if you're not going to do anything useful to help her, go box up Zelda," Charlie called, flicking his wand and conjuring several crates to move the dragons in.

Hermione smiled kindly at Saskia as she healed the wound on her arm as best she could.

"It might scar," Hermione told her. "Sorry about that. Do you want to keep the tooth?"

Saskia nodded. "I might stab Greg with it later and see who the real wuss is," she said.

Hermione laughed, helping the witch to her feet and handing her the tooth. She looked around at the others, spying blood on a few of them and hurrying over. Jason was dripping in it and Hermione winced.

"Where are you bleeding?" she asked him.

"It's nothing, Granger," he waved her off.

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring him and invading his space while he tried to help Charlie and the others levitate Cinderella into a crate.

"I said it's nothing, witch," he said impatiently and Hermione recognised the sign of a wounded, angry beast when she saw it. He was more hurt than he was letting on and trying to drive her away by being mean.

Flicking her wand with diagnostic charms, Hermione found that he'd caught the fire across his back and he had a slash on his chest. Peeling him out of his tunic when he was being uncooperative wasn't easy, but she managed it when he tried to back out of her grip.

He almost punched her for her trouble, but Hermione ducked the strike and flicked her wand to clean him up, knitting the wound on his chest closed. She spun him when he spluttered at her, looking immediately contrite for almost hitting her, and Hermione was quick with the burn salve on his back before bandaging him up.

"You're a pushy little thing," Jason complained. "I can see why Charlie's so keen on you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, hope igniting in her chest.

"You like pushy?" she asked.

"Charlie does," Jason smirked. "Not me. I prefer my women pliant and fragile."

"Liar," Caroline laughed. "He likes them fiery."

"Who doesn't?" Greg scoffed.

"True," Caroline smirked.

"Are you lot going to gossip, or fucking help?" Charlie demanded from across the clearing where he was trying to heal a nasty gash on the Horntail's back leg.

"He's such an arsehole when he's in charge," Jason laughed, shaking his head.

Hermione rolled her eyes, deserting him to help Sid – who had a wicked gash through his right eyebrow.

"Just a little love tap, you gave me," Sid was muttering to the dragon, ignoring his blood. "Come on, Baby. Let's get you boxed up and back to the Sanctum so I can heal you. That's it."

He was guiding one of the wounded females into a crate and Hermione helped him get her inside before stopping him so she could heal him.

"You alright there, Granger?" he asked, smiling at her as she cleaned up his face and fixed his eyebrow.

"I'm just fine, Sid," Hermione smiled at him.

"Never seen a dragon brawl before, huh?"

"No. I kind of hope I don't see another. I hate that they've hurt one another so much. Poor things," Hermione said, smoothing some disinfectant over a gash on the female they'd crated once she was done healing Sid.

Sid smiled at her gently.

"You're going to fit in really well here, love," he told her quietly. "Don't let us drive you away, yeah? We need more people like you in the world."

Hermione smiled at the warm praise.

"Thanks, Sid," she said humbly.

"Anytime, darlin'. Go on, now. The others need your help more than me. Just a love tap, this was," he said, indicating to his eyebrow. Beneath the blood his eye was blackening but there was little she could do for that until they got back to Dragonsmeade.

Nodding, Hermione turned attention to healing the others and then to healing the dragons and helping to get them all in crates for transportation back to the Sanctum. The entire time as she worked she couldn't help the way her attention repeatedly strayed to Charlie, watching him move as she took charge of the situation, all while Jason's words of Charlie being keen on her played on a loop inside her head that made her dizzy with hope and giddiness.


	8. Chapter 8: Crackle

**A/N: *is mortified that this chapter took so bloody long***

 ***hands it over on bent knee***

 ***hopes you can forgive the tardiness***

 ***promises that more will be forthcoming in short order... hopefully***

 **xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Crackle**

* * *

By the end of the day, Hermione was bone weary and exhausted. She didn't think she'd ever worked a harder day in her life and she was dreading the idea of having to do it all again tomorrow. The entire afternoon had been spent dealing with the number dragons that had been carted in from the field with injuries. Caroline had informed her that being in charge of the Sanctum meant that Hermione was likely to just get busier and busier and had asked her how well she usually did under pressure.

Her body ached when she dragged herself alongside the other Tamers into the pub that night where everyone downed too much whiskey to be healthy. Hermione went easy on it, not wanting to add a hangover to the protestations and aches she knew would plague her in the morning. She gobbled down her dinner like she hadn't eaten in a week and Charlie had laughed when she'd sneaked a few chips off his plate when she thought he wasn't looking before giving up on trying to steal his food and ordering something extra for herself.

Her side was aching where she'd been burned and her back ached from shovelling all morning and Hermione had never been so tired.

"Come on, Granger. Keep up," Jason teased, nudging her when she was nursing her fire-whiskey after dinner while the rest of them downed glass after glass of whiskey, drowning their hurts in enough alcohol to pickle just about anything.

Hermione blinked at him, feeling like her eyelids weighed a tonne and like something tried to hold them closed every time she tried to lift them once more.

"Worn out, love?" Caroline chuckled when she saw the way Hermione looked so dazed.

"Just a little bit," Hermione said quietly.

"You had a big day," Caroline nodded. "Dunno if I'd have still been awake if there'd been a dragon brawl on my first day here. I'd be passed out in my bed without dinner."

"You were passed out in your bed without dinner on your first day, even without the brawl," Sid teased her, grinning.

"Shut up," Caroline laughed.

"I'm surprised you're still awake, Granger. The whole day spent handling the Sanctum with this grumpy sod riding your arse and keeping you hopping," Jason jerked a thumb at Charlie. "Last time I spent a full day working with him, I slept right through work the following day."

Hermione laughed, shooting a grin at Charlie, who lifted his drink to his lips and drank deeply, looking quietly proud of his work ethic.

"Yeah, tell us how your day went, Granger," Greg said. "You patched pretty much all of us up this afternoon after that brawl, but what about your morning? Did Weasley let you have it?"

"I'm not a _complete_ arsehole," Charlie protested.

"Mate, you made me singlehandedly take on that raging Horntail when he was waking up before he was patched up," Sid reminded him. "You're a hard bastard and you've never been easy on newbs in the Sanctuary. I'm surprised she hasn't run for the hills."

"Was I horrid, Hermione?" Charlie appealed.

"Positively dreadful," Hermione nodded, grinning. "I don't know how I'll possibly drag myself out of bed in the morning to face another day of you barking orders at me and forcing me to scrub scale rot."

Charlie's wild eyes rested on her for a moment for her completely sincere tone and the other Tamers all looked quietly pleased, obviously expecting him to have been horrid to her. But it was all an act. Hermione couldn't wait to drag herself out of bed tomorrow, just so she'd be able to spend the day right next to him, learning about the dragons and how to care them, and just being in close proximity to the man she'd been crushing on for way too long.

"You better be there on time or I'll drag you out by the ankles, witch," he warned her, and Hermione wondered if he knew she was lying for the sake of her pride and his reputation.

"I'd expect nothing less," Hermione smirked before throwing back the remainder of her drink.

She winced when the movement made her side twinge where Azreal had burned her.

"You're hurt?" Caroline asked, catching the wince.

Hermione nodded. "I caught the fire this afternoon."

All the Tamers glanced at her.

"When?" Jason asked, frowning.

"Not long before the call came in about the Horntail," Hermione shrugged.

"You were popping about all over the place fixing us up with painkillers in your system and your first dragon-fire burn hindering you, and you didn't say a word?" Caroline asked, frowning. "Granger, you've been working hard all afternoon!"

"So have you," Hermione shrugged. "You caught the fire today, too."

"How badly were you burned?" Caroline asked, and Hermione glanced at Charlie.

He shrugged. "Show her, if you want. The amount of blistering and scarring left after the healing session won't keep them from figuring out how bad the burn Az gave you was."

Hermione set down her glass and twisted to one side, lifting her shirt to reveal her midriff and her side. She peeled back some of the bandaging, wincing when she noticed the way the blistered flesh had split open. It had been aching all afternoon and she'd thought about going to the clinic for more pain medication, but there hadn't been time while she was helping Charlie get the newest residents of the Sanctum settled in and afterward she'd barely had time for a hasty shower before being interrupted by Caroline and dragged over to the pub for dinner.

"Shit," Charlie said, glancing at the wound. "You split it. How aren't you screaming?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, digging a hand into her pocket and fishing out a jar of burn salve. She unscrewed it and smeared some over the wound, watching some of the redness fade and sighing at the cooling effect of the medicine.

"He caught you pretty good, eh?" Caroline said, inspecting the wound before she could cover it again.

"Crazy witch was bucked off after she caught the fire, almost trampled, and then went back for more to finish the job, remove the scale rot and bandage the rampaging sod up before we got out of there, too," Charlie told the group and there was grudging respect in his voice before he downed the rest of his whiskey and got up, taking her cup with him to get the next round.

"Blimey, Granger," Jason smirked. "You mad, girl?"

Hermione shrugged. "He needed to be healed."

"So did you," Caroline argued.

"Az needed it more," Hermione said. "It's really not that big a deal."

"Not a big deal?" Greg laughed. "Granger, that's a nasty burn. Most people go into shock the first time they catch the fire. Some even for the first twenty times. There's no shame in admitting that these beasts are tougher and crueller than us, girl."

Hermione pressed her lips together, shrugging again and relinquishing the jar of burn salve to Caroline when the other woman dug into it before smoothing more cooling gel over Hermione's hip and her back.

"I've known worse pain," she said softly, lowering her eyes and remembering the long minutes of repeated agony when she'd endured Bellatrix's Cruciatus curse.

Everyone was silent, watching the way she subconsciously fingered the scar upon her forearm.

"So," Jason spoke up to break the silence as Charlie returned. "Hurts like fuck now, but how'd you like catching the fire that first time, eh? Going back for more? Or running for the hills?"

Hermione felt a slow, wicked smile stretch across her face.

"I think I could take a little more," she admitted. "It's certainly a unique sensation before the sting really sets in."

The Tamers all smirked.

"I think we've got ourselves another addict, lads," Sid said, smiling widely.

They all laughed when Hermione blushed, accepted her fresh whiskey from Charlie, and downed it in one.

 **~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Charles Weasley smirked against the rim of goblet, watching the curly haired little witch wilt in her chair, her head resting on her arms, her glass upside down to indicate that she couldn't drink another drop. He knew she was tired and that she was hurting. He couldn't remember being as proud of a witch as he was of Hermione today.

He hadn't been sure she'd was cut out for the life of a Dragonologist when she'd turned up, if he was being honest. She loved her books, and she was so logical at times that it hurt, and Charlie had thought that she might not be interested in sweet talking a cranky beast and shovelling shit, and running after raging, fire-breathing dragons just for the sake of trying to protect and control the population of wild dragons still roaming the earth. But she'd dived in with an eagerness that reminded him of himself and she hadn't complained even when she'd been injured in the line of duty. Her palms were bloody with blisters, he'd bet she had rub marks on her feet from her shoes, she had a wicked burn on her side, and he'd wager every muscle in her body was screaming at her after the hard day spent shovelling and twisting and practicing physical labour.

"I reckon we got us a keeper here, lads," Caroline slurred, catching sight of the fact that Hermione had fallen asleep and chuckling, looking entirely too pleased about their newest recruit. Charlie would have to remember to let the witch know tomorrow that Hermione went in for wizards, rather than the fairer sex, though doing it now would just embarrass and upset the pretty little lady.

"I'll believe that when I see it," came Amy's bitter reply.

Charlie rolled his eyes at the other woman's pettiness, wondering if he currently had the authority to fire the bitch. He'd wanted her out of the Sanctuary and far away from Dragonsmeade for months, if he was being honest. The minute he'd realised she didn't have what it took to date a bloke like him, Charlie had written her off for a lost cause, and now he couldn't look at her without seeing all her flaws and all the things he couldn't stand about the woman. Things certainly weren't helped by her continued interest in him, despite his cold rejection on more than one occasion.

He supposed he couldn't blame her. Until recently he'd pushed her away right up until he was drunk enough and horny enough to ignore her flaws just long enough to fuck her. Shaking his head to himself, Charlie downed the remainder of his drink, thinking it might be high time he got his charge home to bed.

Being breeding season, and seeing as he was currently in charge of the Tamers and all the dragon related goings-on in the Sanctum, Charlie doubted he'd get a decent sleep until the other side of this mess, but he wouldn't begrudge their newest recruit the rest she sorely needed, and he certainly wouldn't pass up an opportunity to carry the pretty little witch to bed. Even if Amy was going to be a bitch about it.

"I reckon she needs to be put to bed," Charlie said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before getting to his feet.

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to be the one to put her there?" Amy asked snidely.

"Since she'll be on lookout tomorrow watching my back in the enclosures with Migration antsy dragons, yeah, I'm going to put her to bed and I'm going to set her alarm so that she makes it to work on time and I might even make her a packed lunch, too," Charlie sneered hostilely. "Unlike _some_ of the women I work with, this one's wellbeing is important to me. And if anyone's got a problem with that, take it up with me now, or hold you're fucking tongue."

Amy narrowed her eyes hatefully, almost looking like she might dare to say something just to be a spiteful cow, but then she looked away, too scared to get in his face and tell him he was out of line, or that he was showing favouritism, or to pretend she had a bloody spine. It was one of the things he'd found he couldn't stand about her. She wasn't willing to go toe to toe with him. She didn't want to get in his face and scream at him for being a cunt when he got ornery. She didn't want to risk catching _his_ fire. And Charlie couldn't stand weakness and spinelessness like that.

"Yeah," Charlie grunted. "That's what I thought."

Scooping his arms around Hermione carefully, he lifted the petite witch into his arms, nodding gratefully at Caroline when she tucked Hermione's head against his shoulder to keep it from lolling uncomfortably. Caroline smiled, offering him a sluggish wink before she lifted her cup to her face and downed the rest of the whiskey inside, clearly intending to escort him across the village while he put Hermione to bed. He knew it was likely because she was a chatty drunk, and because she didn't want to risk being caught having to walk home with Amy, but Charlie didn't mind. It would make a good alibi should Amy try to turn this stunt into something that she could get Hermione fired over.

"Come on, Weasley," Caroline grunted. "I reckon if I drink another drop, I'll fall down drunk like Sid. So… you just… walk me home like a bloody gentleman, yeah?"

"Thought you didn't go in for the gentlemen, Caroline," Charlie smirked at her, swaying a little on his feet thanks to his own intoxication, but keeping his footing to ensure he wasn't going to drop Hermione. His wounds from the dragon scuffles over the past two days throbbed dully at the effort of carrying the petite witch in his arms, but Charlie ignored them. He'd deal with them when he got home. It would give him an excuse to _go_ home. And he needed one, else he might just crawl into bed beside Hermione in her cabin and hold her all night long like he'd done the night before.

He'd forgotten, until last night and the early hours of this morning, what it was like to hold a witch in his arms for no other reason than comfort and warmth and the sweet, content feeling of being able to do so.

"Eat me, Weasley," Caroline said before blowing a raspberry at him.

"I don't think you'd let me," Charlie teased, shamelessly flirting with the witch because he knew it would piss Amy off, and because it would better throw the bitch off the scent of something untoward between him and Hermione.

"I would," Caroline disagreed. "In the dark, a hot tongue lapping at my cunt is just a hot tongue, you know? Don't much care either way when it's dark and I'm drunk. It's just when I'm the one doing the eating that I take issue with the gents."

Charlie laughed.

"Scared of a bit of cock, eh?" he teased, wincing when the witch socked him in the arm hard enough to almost jolt Hermione awake.

"I'm not scared of anything, fucker," Caroline replied. "I just don't like choking on uncooked meat at someone else's pleasure, you know? I prefer to eat at my own pace."

Charlie shook his head, chuckling at the other dragon tamer in amusement and wondering if he had the power to promote her. Not that she'd take the job, he reckoned. She liked it here, for all that she whined about there not being enough bent women in her vicinity.

"Don't we all?" he chuckled, grinning sideways at her as they left the pub and sauntered along the quiet streets of Dragonsmeade.

"Not enough witches, no," Caroline chuckled. "Been too bloody long since I got laid, actually. Not many bent girls go in for Taming, eh?"

"Next Christmas I'll bring you home with me and introduce you to some of the birds of my sister's Quidditch team," he promised. "You'll be able to eat until your heart's content."

Caroline snickered. "Thought your sister was close to popping with the spawn of the Potter bloke?"

"Yeah, she is," Charlie grinned. "But she's got some bent friends you'll love."

"I do love pretty ladies who know how to fly," Caroline said.

Charlie knew the look on her face, knowing her mind had strayed from sexual fantasy and back to the love of dragons that kept them both bound here where they could play with the glorious beasts all day, every day.

"How'd she do today, Weasley?" Caroline asked. "For real?"

She nodded at Hermione where the girl was cradled in his arms. Charlie glanced at Hermione to make sure she was sleeping.

"She did good," he admitted. "I was hard on her. But she loves a challenge, this one. Always has. She's coming at all this from the research angle, trying to figure out how to boost the breeding numbers and population for her field studies through the Ministry. But she didn't balk at the scale-rot or the stench or the death-defying acts that we've got to perform to survive this place every day."

Caroline grinned. "She loved catching the fire, too."

"Who doesn't?" Charlie smirked in return.

"She's a pretty little thing. Amy's got her knickers in a twist about this one, you know?"

"Course she does," Charlie scoffed. "Hermione's prettier, smarter, and somewhat famous back home."

"Yeah, and she's got your attention," Caroline chuckled as they reached her cabin.

"Meaning?" Charlie asked.

Caroline grinned at him. "Come on, Weasley. You might fool everyone else with your aloof bullshit about being a hard-arse boss on her today, but you're sweet on this one. Have been for a while, I'd wager. You look at her in a way I've only ever seen you look at a rampaging dragon who's ten seconds away from roasting you. You want to pull her hair and fling all that caged fire in your heart right at her just to watch her dance. You want to find out if she's brave enough to stand in the full force of your not inconsiderable rage and power. I could see it last night. You want her. Thought you would've had her last night, too. Especially when she came to work sporting those love bites this morning."

"Trouble with Herc distracted me," he admitted.

"But you want her?" Caroline confirmed.

Charlie looked at the little curly haired witch cradled in his arm, tracing his eyes over her.

"I want to find out if she can handle me," he admitted, lifting his gaze back to meet Caroline's eyes.

The witch smiled widely, looking pleased.

"Well, you better watch it, eh?" she said. "Amy won't make it easy for you."

"Amy might find herself relocated to the Sanctum in Australia if she pisses me off while I'm in charge," Charlie grunted.

"Be doing us all a favour if you could make that happen," Caroline laughed, leaning against the door of her cabin as she tried to pull her boots off. "It's bad enough watching Saskia and Greg flirt and taunt each other. Putting up with the ugliness between you and Bitch Face is bloody unbearable."

"Yeah, well," Charlie shrugged. "You convince her to get the fuck out of here and we'll all be happier for it."

"And Hermione?" Caroline asked. "What happens if she can't handle your fire, Charlie?"

Charlie chuckled. "I'm pretty sure she can. But if she can't… well, she's practically part of my family. We'll shove it in a box, pretend it didn't happen and get on with things like uncomfortable cousins, or something."

Caroline laughed. "Just try to remember she's here for at least a year to complete her training and don't go making things too awkward right out the gate, yeah? And deal with Amy before you start something with Hermione. Amy will make her life, and yours, a nightmare if you don't get this shit sorted out with her first. She's not above getting Hermione disqualified from the Sanctum if she thinks she's still got a shot with you, or that she can get Hermione out of here on a technicality."

"Can't you just seduce her so that she stops chasing me and starts chasing you?" Charlie asked.

Caroline laughed. "I'm good, Weasley. But I don't think I'm good enough to turn that obsessive little bitch off of you. Not when you walk around looking like that and burning with that intensity that makes even my knickers wet, and I don't even swing your way."

"What intensity?" he frowned.

Caroline scoffed at him.

"That intensity that makes it seem like you're just looking for the right witch to come along before you bury yourself so deep inside her, you'll never be free. You've had it for a while. It's almost a look of desperation. You want a woman who can handle all your shit; one who'll be waiting in your bed for you when you crawl back bloody and blistered from a midnight round against Herc, just waiting to pull you into her embrace. Your siblings are all starting to pop out rugrats of their own, and in the back of your mind you're on the prowl for a woman who'll pop out a few of yours before too long passes between when your siblings all have kids, and you do, too. You want a woman. You want a wife. You want to keep this crazy life, but you want a family too, buddy. You're tired of the quick thrill it is to shag someone like Amy whom you can take or leave when the sun comes up. You need the burning intensity of love hotter than dragonfire, and if you don't find it soon, I think you might go mad."

Charlie blinked at her. "What? You think I'm getting egg-crazed?" he teased.

Caroline laughed.

"Nah," she shook her head. "I think you're hitting your _musth_."

He recoiled a little at the term. In dragons and other animals, like elephants, _musth_ was a periodic condition of heightened testosterone activity flooding the system by up to one hundred times the normal amount, causing aggression and overstimulated libido.

"I'm not a bloody bull," he laughed at the witch.

Caroline smirked at him.

"No," she agreed. "You're a _Balaur_ looking for his _koroleva_."

She winked at him before opening the door to her cabin and letting herself inside.

"See you in the morning, boss," she smirked before she disappeared, closing the door behind her and leaving him standing there a little thunderstruck, clutching Hermione in his hold.

Shaking his head and trying to push aside the thoughts she'd stirred up, Charlie walked away, strolling down the street in silence, intent on taking Hermione home. When he glanced at her again, he realised with a jolt that having sent Caroline to fetch her for dinner, he still didn't actually know where she lived.

"Shit," he cursed, frowning at the girl.

It wouldn't do to let her sleep over with him a second night in a row. Not with Amy intent on getting her thrown out of the Sanctum. Not with thoughts running through his head of how good it had felt waking up with her wrapped in his embrace that morning, and how nice it had been when he'd crawled home last night, injured and high on painkillers after his scuffle with Herc. Merlin, his whole body ached, and he didn't have time to worry about trying to figure out where she lived. He'd apparated there earlier, but he was too drunk off his arse to manage apparition now without splinching himself. His only mode of transportation was walking, and he didn't know the way.

It wasn't that late, by his standards, but he knew he was going to be tired and sore in the morning, and he needed to get Hermione to bed or she'd be just as tired and just as cranky. He didn't want to scare her off too soon with his foul temper just because he wasn't getting enough sleep.

"Fuck it," he muttered, thinking to himself that Hermione could just Floo back to her cabin in the morning and they could start fresh tomorrow.

Shaking his head, and heading for his own cabin, Charlie told himself he was just being practical and that Caroline's observations meant nothing, and that the snog he'd shared with Hermione that day had just been born of awe for her determination to get the job done and look after the dragons, rather than any burning intensity building up inside of him. He shouldered open the door to his cabin when he reached it, unlocking it with his wand awkwardly as he cradled the sleeping witch, before kicking the door closed behind him and carrying Hermione down the hall and into his bedroom.

He laid her down on it when he reached the bed, settling her on top of the covers before pulling off her boots. She was still dressed in jeans and a jumper, and he doubted she'd be comfortable in them. He wondered if it would be wrong of him to peel her out of the jeans. Probably.

Before he could debate it too hard, the witch began to wriggle.

"You awake, Hermione?" he asked.

She grizzled at him without opening her eyes, her hands going to the fastening on her jeans and wrenching them open. She peeled them halfway down her legs before cycling her legs like she was riding a bike, kicking the jeans from her body with limited grace. Charlie couldn't help but laugh, catching her legs and helping her out of the jeans.

"Jumper too, love," he told her. "Or you'll overheat."

"Charlie?" she asked, sounding sleepy.

"It's me, Hermione," he said.

He didn't know what to make of it when she smiled, her eyes fluttering open briefly as he helped her out of her jumper.

"Come on. Into bed with you," he told her.

She complied, her eyes closing once more as she wriggled around until she was under the covers.

"I'm gonna grab a shower, alright?" he told her. "You better not be hogging the covers when I get back."

"No promises," she murmured before a soft snore escaped her and Charlie chuckled to himself, hurrying out of the room and jumping through the shower until he was clean. He winced when he got out and laid eyes on the many wounds littering his body. Az, Herc, and the others had all given him a good run for his money since last night and he was bleeding in several places.

Patching himself up as best he could without having to go to the clinic, Charlie staunched all the bleeding and applied the salves and creams he'd been collecting over the years as a Tamer, used to the pain and the wounds that came along with a dangerous profession. When he was as comfortable as he could be whilst still awake, Charlie pulled his boxers on and flicked his wand, dousing the lights before returning to his bedroom.

Hermione was sprawled across the mattress, spread-eagled, and he couldn't help but laugh as he crossed the room and peeled open the covers, arranging the witch's limbs to fit himself into the bed beside her. When he was in, the little witch immediately began snuffling about, clearly sensing his presence despite still being asleep.

He didn't even feel guilty when he rolled on his side to face her and looped his arm over her middle, rolling her to face away from him before spooning his body around hers. She was warm, and she smelled delicious, and Merlin knew he'd spent far too many nights longing for the feel of a witch in his arms as he fell asleep. Longing for the feel of _this_ witch in his arms as he fell asleep, if he was being honest.

Closing his eyes, Charlie smirked a little to himself, listening to the way she slowly ceased her fussing once he was holding her. He'd lied to her last night when she'd showed up. He hadn't had any idea she was coming to the Sanctum before she'd appeared in his presence, but he was hardly as dense and as behind on the news about her comings and goings as he'd let her believe. It wouldn't do, after all, to let her know that he'd been extremely aware of the exact date she and Ron had called it quits, and that he'd been keeping tabs on who she'd dated and how serious the relationships had been since then.

It wouldn't do to let on that she'd caught his eye long before she should've been catching any man's eye, if he was being honest. He'd done his best to put her out of his head, but every time he'd been home in recent years, certainly since the end of the war, he'd been extremely aware of all the little things about Hermione Granger that he had no business knowing about his younger brother's girlfriend.

Last night, looking at her when he was already a good many whiskeys into his evening, he'd been thinking that it would be a very bad thing if he let on that she'd had his attention for longer than he cared to admit. So he'd lied, and let her think he had no idea what she'd been up to. And he'd walked her home and been intent on fucking her right here in his bed before Herc had gone postal, and while he'd never hated one of the dragons under his care before, Charlie was resenting the hell out of Herc for interrupting them last night.

Part of him wanted to try his luck with her tonight, but he knew it would be foolish. Mostly because she was bone-tired and needed her rest if she was going to be any use to him tomorrow, but also because – thanks to Herc's attack on Marla – he was technically her supervisor for the next few weeks, or months. Amy would have her thrown out, and Caroline was right that if they tried things on for size and it turned sour, it would make working together bloody uncomfortable.

He needed to spend more time testing her and pushing her before letting himself do anything as foolish as he'd done today when he snogged her. He didn't regret it, and Merlin's fucking socks, he wanted to do it again. But he would have to wait. And watch. And assess whether or not she could handle a bloke like him, and handle this life as a Tamer.

Even if she had made that little comment about how long she'd already waited. Circe's cunny, he wanted to know what she'd meant by that. When she'd been dating Ron and dating those other tossers she'd brought along to functions at the Burrow whenever he'd been home, he'd been sure she just thought of him as an interesting distraction who knew a lot about one of her favourite topics. He genuinely hadn't known she'd been so interested in Dragons and he'd had no idea she wanted to be a Dragonologist until last night.

But maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe she'd been side-eyeing him in the minutes when he looked away. Maybe she'd entertained a naughty fantasy or two about him over the years. Merlin, he hoped so. She'd seemed keen last night before he'd been called away, and she'd seemed beyond keen when he'd snogged her after Az had caught her with his fire. Jupiter's moons, what he wouldn't give to watch her come undone under his touch.

She hummed contently in her sleep when he curled himself around her a little more snugly and Charlie grinned, burying his face in her messy curls and breathing in the sweet scent of her lavender shampoo. Holding her close, Charlie let his mind rest, pushing aside thoughts of seducing her, and the trouble that might come of it; pushing aside worries about the Sanctum, and the dragons, and the migration, and all he had to do in the coming days and weeks to get the lot of them through Breeding season with as few hiccups as possible.

He breathed her in and he held her close, and if he liked the way she wiggled back, grinding her bum against his cock, well, no one had to know. And if he fell asleep to dream of snogging her senseless all over again, well, all the better.


	9. Chapter 9: Sear

**A/N: *swoops in riding a Welsh Green***

 ***Tosses the chapter at you***

 ***Grins slyly***

 ***soars away, cackling wickedly***

 **xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Sear**

* * *

Hermione woke in agony, her whole body screaming at her and aching in ways it hadn't since she'd endured the Cruciatus curse during the war. Blinking her eyes open groggily, Hermione tried to make sense of her surroundings, for the second time in as many days finding herself with a view of soft red chest hair and brightly coloured tattoos.

Charlie.

She smiled, realising he must've brought her home with him when he'd been too drunk to apparate her to her own cabin, obviously not knowing the way unless it was to get there by Apparation. Despite the pain in her body and the stinging ache in her hip where she'd been burned, Hermione found herself warmed and smiling to recall that she'd spent the whole day with Charlie and had even gotten to kiss him.

Shuffling slightly, noting that they were once again intimately entwined in the middle of the bed, his arms and legs curled around her protectively, Hermione pulled back just far enough to peer into his face. He was still sound asleep, his face tranquil and smooth as he dreamed. She couldn't help but smile just a little bit, tracing her eyes over his handsome visage and noting the stubble lining his strong jaw. Merlin, but he was nice to look at, that was certain.

He stirred as though feeling her gaze and Hermione wondered what time it was, lifting her head a little more and peering over his robust shoulder to spy the clock on his night stand.

Almost six o'clock in the morning, she noted. Her usual wake-up hour. Hermione smiled a little more, pleased she didn't have to be up and running out the door again today as she'd done yesterday when she'd awoken in his embrace. Supposing she ought to make the most of it and clear off before she could be caught in bed with her boss a second day in a row, Hermione began painstakingly trying to extract herself from Charlie's embrace.

Not that it was easy. Her whole body throbbed and ached painfully thanks to pulled muscles and her hip stung like hell where she'd caught the fire. She suspected from the pain radiating from that area that she must've torn the flesh open again during the night.

"Huh?" Charlie grunted just as she managed to slip out of his grip, only to find that she was caught between him and the wall.

"Charlie?" Hermione asked, looking back toward the Dragon Tamer. "Are you awake?"

"Am now," he grumbled without opening his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," Hermione whispered.

Charlie groaned in protest, his brow furrowing like that was the worst news he had all year.

"Why are you awake?" he wanted to know.

"I'm usually awake this early," Hermione told him. "But you can go back to sleep if you like. Let me just… clamber over you…"

She swung one leg over him, intending to climb over and get out of the bed, but before she could, his hands settled on her hips and he opened his eyes to peer up at her, still looking three quarters asleep.

"Where are you going?" he wanted to know, his voice like gravel.

Hermione shivered under the directness of his gaze, feeling that like most men tended to, he'd awoken aroused.

"I've got to get back to my hut," she told him gently. "And then I've got to get ready for the day and make some lunch, and I wanted to make some notes on my observations yesterday and…. Why are you looking at me like that, Charlie?"

He was eyeing her like he was thinking seriously and jerking down his boxers, and shoving aside her knickers, and impaling her on his cock. Hermione hated him a little bit for it too, because Merlin's hat, she wanted him to ravish her right there in that bed, even as sore as she was and as much trouble as she'd be in, she wanted him.

"Your hair is wild," he told her, releasing one of her hips to reach for her nest of curls and Hermione winced.

"Don't encourage them," she warned, though she found her eyes drifting closed when the handsome wizard carded his hand through her hair, his nails scraping gently at her scalp in a way that made her want to sit up and purr. "They're unmanageable enough without assistance."

Charlie chuckled.

"Are they always this mad naturally?" he asked, arching under her just a little bit and making Hermione bite her lip with how badly she wanted to fuck him in that moment.

"Yeah," Hermione admitted, her voice growing husky with her lust as she leaned into his touch and rolled her hips just a little.

"Nice," Charlie murmured, eyeing her like he wanted to devour her.

"I should go," Hermione said, reaching for his hand in her hair and untangling it carefully.

"You don't have to," Charlie said. "You want some breakfast?"

Hermione bit her lip, indecision warring inside of her.

"I don't want you getting sick of me too soon," she said. "You've got the next few months of putting up with me asking incessant questions all day long as you train me in dragonology. I understand if you need some time to yourself, Charlie. You didn't know I was coming, after all, and I don't want to cramp your style."

Charlie rolled his eyes.

"It's breakfast, love," he chuckled. "Not a bloody marriage proposal."

Hermione blushed, supposing he had a point.

"Fine," she said. "But if you're sick of me by lunch time it'll be your own fault."

Charlie looked like the thought amused him, and Hermione clambered off him, intent on getting breakfast started. She had to remind herself firmly that he was her supervisor and that they couldn't go shagging, no matter how pleasant a morning it might make. Hissing as she rose to her feet and clutched at her burned side, Hermione winced, bending down in search of her jeans.

"You alright?" Charlie asked, sitting up in bed and swinging his legs over the side to put his feet on the floor while he scrubbed his hands over his face before rearranging his junk in the hopes of calming down his morning erection.

"Sore," Hermione confessed. "I think I tore my burn open again during the night."

"Let me see?" Charlie said, reaching for her and stopping her when she tried to pull her jeans up her legs, conscious of the fact that she wore only a tank top and her knickers. Hermione whimpered when he slid calloused hands over her bare legs, steering her around until she stood in front of him. He squinted in the early morning light before reaching over and turning on the bedside lamp.

Hermione carefully peeled the hem of her tank top up, hissing when the fabric was stuck to the wound and had to be peeled away agonisingly.

"Bloody hell, Granger," Charlie muttered when they could both get a look at the angry red wound that wept blood and pus. "You're in a bad way, witch. I need to put something on this or it's going to get infected. You should've taken the rest of yesterday off after catching the fire."

"I wanted to keep working and it didn't hurt so much then. I'll be fine, Charlie," Hermione said stubbornly.

"I won't when Mum turns up here and rips strips out of my hide for letting your get so badly hurt and then letting you soldier on like it's nothing," Charlie informed her, rising to his feet and causing Hermione's eyes to dart to his bare chest. With pectorals like river rocks, and washboard abs, the very sight of him set her knickers aflame and Hermione whimpered very softly as she drank in the sight he made.

"She doesn't even know I'm here," Hermione managed to squeak, trying to keep her mind on the topic at hand, rather than on the sudden fantasies inundating her that involved her licking part of the wizard before her until she knew every inch of him by taste alone.

"Yeah, and I'm sure that – somehow – she'll find a way to blame me for that too," Charlie muttered darkly, clearly never in a very good mood first thing in the morning. "Wait here while I grab some salve and things to patch you up, yeah? Don't move."

Hermione bit her lip, nodding her head and watching as he stepped around her, his hulking frame rippling with bulging muscle as he moved. Godric, but she'd love to run her hands over every sinful inch of the man.

He disappeared from view and Hermione squeezed her legs together, trying to ignore the fluttering of her nether region and attempting to squash notions of shoving him back down on the bed and having her way with him the minute he returned. Merlin's boots, she was in over her head with this wizard. Maybe she'd shouldn't have come. Maybe she should've allowed herself to simply fantasize about him from a distance and should've just settled on some nice wizard like Oliver Wood, or maybe Seamus Finnegan. Someone who didn't make her feel out of control and like she couldn't get enough of them every time she even looked in their direction.

"Oi!" Charlie grunted, returning as she stooped and was attempting to wriggle into her jeans before he could come back and notice that she was slowly drenching her knickers with these traitorously lustful thoughts starring him.

"What?" Hermione squeaked, turning toward him, her eyes wide with concern and her cheeks beginning to darken with embarrassment when she got her jeans stuck around her knees because she was standing on the hems of them and too busy staring at him as he moved to figure out why she was having such trouble pulling them higher.

"I told you not to move," Charlie growled, and Hermione froze, blinking at him as he crossed the short distance between them.

When he'd invaded her personal space – stealing her breath and making her thighs clench together again involuntarily – he dropped down on the bed next to where she stood and he steered her around in front of himself once more, guiding her to stand between his spread legs, side on so that he could doctor her burn.

"This might sting," he warned before smoothing something cold over the raw flesh.

"Fucking hell!" Hermione hissed, attempting to dance out of his reach and almost falling thanks to still having her jeans caught around her knees.

Charlie didn't say anything before he snagged a finger in the waistband on her knickers, using the grip to pull her close once more. He smoothed more salve over the burn on her skin and though it stung like hell, it slowly seeped a cooling numbness into the stinging flesh.

"This one is going to seal the skin so you don't keep ripping it open, alright?" he told her. "Fair warning, even with the numbness of the salve working on it, this is going to hurt, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, grateful for the warning and bracing for the sting.

"Ouch!" she cried out when he smeared a thick and globbed paste over the flesh. It stunk like rotting greenery, and it was bright purple in colour. "What the hell is that?"

Beneath the thick paste she could literally feel her flesh knitting back together and it itched like having a million ants biting her all at once.

"You probably don't want to know what's in it," Charlie admitted. "But suffice it to say it's a quick fix for bruises and scars but it hurts like fuck to apply, and it leave some pretty nasty purple scars behind. Sorry, love, but you're going to have a nasty purple burn scar here for the rest of your life."

"I take it this is something you use often?" she asked, eyeing the number of purple blotches hidden amongst his freckles and tattoos.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Bit of a home remedy. The Healers at the clinic don't recommend it, mind, because it makes you a bit…"

Hermione felt a wave of dizziness engulf her before a low moan tore from her lips as though she was experiencing and intense orgasm out of nowhere.

"Yeah," Charlie chuckled huskily. "That about covers it. It'll wear off in a minute, but you'll be pretty sensitive and uh… easily stimulated… all day today. And that'll be on top of the effects in the air from dealing with migration-mad dragons as the lizards all start pumping out pheromones for breeding season. Don't worry too much if you find yourself in need of some… ah… relief, throughout the day, yeah?"

Hermione closed her eyes, tipping her head back, her breath laboured as she tried to navigate the wild feelings coursing through her body like wildfire.

"Gods, Charlie," Hermione moaned softly, reaching for him with one hand and gripping his robust shoulder tightly as endorphins rushed through her, making her pussy throb and clench wildly.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know, angel. But I can't help you out with that just yet. Need to get you patched up, and then I need you to do me, alright?"

"I'll do you right now if you'll just strip out of those boxers," Hermione heard herself say sultrily, and though her cheeks flushed with warmth, she meant every word.

Charlie paused, tipping his eyes up to meet her tortured gaze when Hermione looked at him pleadingly.

"Fuck," he murmured as her nails dug into his shoulder insistently and she looked at him imploringly. "Hermione… we can't…"

Hermione whimpered, closing her eyes and trying to hold in the urge she had to sob.

"Bloody hell, I forgot how strong it is the first time you use it," Charlie muttered, tracing his eyes over her.

Using a warm, damp cloth he wiped the excess, globby concoction from her skin, leaving a large purple stain in the shape of her burn behind. Hermione noticed that his hands where stained purple too, from the application and she watched, feeling like she was being tortured, as he contorted himself a little to begin applying some of the same substance to the bites and claw marks on his body.

"Fuck!" he snarled gritting his teeth and tensing under her hands while Hermione tried to get a hold of herself, feeling some of the effects lessen now that the substance was removed.

Charlie twisted under the hand she still hand on his shoulder, contorting himself to apply the concoction to all of his wounds, sealing each one closed and looking like he was torturing himself. Knowing how much it'd hurt before the lusty effect kicked in, Hermione winced along with him as he applied more and more of the substance to his skin until every gash and bite he bore was closed off. She couldn't help but notice the way his erection grew more and more pronounced inside his boxers, too, and when he was done, and had wiped the leftover residue from his skin, Hermione met his gaze intently.

"Don't look at me like that, Hermione," he warned her, his voice low and husky with need, his eyes glittering with flames as though he were a dragon himself.

"Or what?" Hermione challenged.

"Or I'm going to pin you to this bed and fuck you until neither of us can move," Charlie threatened, and Hermione whimpered, wanting him to do just that.

She knew he knew that was what she wanted when she kept right on looking at him like she wanted to ravish him within an inch of their lives. Hermione thought she might get her wish when he groaned and reached for her, shoving aside the healing supplies and pulling her down on top of him and he laid back on the bed.

Hermione moaned at the contact as she stretched out on top of him, smoothing her hands the length of his arms and across his shoulders before sliding them into his hair. Charlie slid his hands slowly down her back, pressing her to him firmly and holding her so tightly it almost hurt.

"I can't fuck you, love," he muttered into her neck, peppering her skin with little nips and kisses that were driving her mad.

"Why not?" Hermione wanted to know, groaning against his skin.

"You'll get fired and I'll be in shit for seducing a rookie under my tutelage," Charlie reminded her. "And no matter how badly I want to drill into you until you scream out your pleasure, I don't want to have to send you packing, love. Hold out for me, yeah? Come on, angel. It's just a little lust from the compress. It'll pass, I promise."

"It won't," Hermione muttered, delirious with lust as Charlie bucked his hips under her, his hands gripping her arse tightly while he thrust against her despite the clothes the both wore. "My desire for you never goes away, Charlie."

"Ah, fuck, darling, you're killing me here," Charlie groaned, grinding against her harder, rolling the two of them until she was pinned beneath him, her legs spread wide and curled around his waist while he ground himself against the junction of her thighs.

"Oh, gods," Hermione whined, her eyes squeezed closed when the sensations became overpowering. "Charlie… I'm… I'm gonna…"

Hermione squealed when the orgasm slammed into her, fire dancing behind her closed lids and cold heat burning through her core, making her crazy and filling with joy before leaving her sated.

"Fuck!" Charlie growled against her skin, frotting her harder before he cursed against, groaning as he followed her into orgasm despite the underwear they both still wore.

Hermione traced her fingers over his back slowly as she tried to catch her breath, feeling the way his muscles shifted beneath the skin with every breath he took.

"Blimey," she heard him muttered before he slowly pulled back far enough to look into her eyes. "You alright, love?"

Hermione smiled contently. "I'm great," she nodded, supposing she must look a little goofy if the way he chuckled was any indication.

"Should've warned you about the effects of that stuff before I used it on you," he said apologetically.

"I certainly wasn't complaining," Hermione replied.

Charlie nodded, eyeing her like he wanted to catch his breath, and kind of like he wanted to fuck her for real the minute he did. Before she could suggest it, the alarm clock on his nightstand began to beep and Hermione winced, groaning at the uncomfortably loud noise.

"Ah, fuck," Charlie grumbled, glaring at the clock before rolling off her so he could reach for it.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom and supposing that she'd better get going.

"Six thirty" he told her, sitting up once more and scrubbing his hand over his face.

"Bugger," Hermione said. "So much for breakfast."

Charlie laughed darkly.

"We can still eat."

"I think people might realise I slept over again if we both show up late, Charlie," Hermione sighed.

"Probably," he muttered.

"Do you think anyone would notice if I dragged Amy by the hair to Esmerelda's cage and locked her in?" Hermione asked, feeling rather mean-spirited about the other witch who seemed to be the only thing standing between her and her intent to shag Charlie senseless.

"I doubt anyone would object," Charlie muttered.

"Is she really so in love with you that she's going to make a fuss at every turn?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Unfortunately I've developed a bad habit of shoving her away as being everything I don't want in a witch right up until I'm drunk and horny," Charlie admitted. "She thinks this is all just a game her and I are playing. And she sees you as competition because she knows that, given the choice I'd rather bed you than go anywhere near her again."

"Except that you apparently do keep going near her again whenever you're lonely," Hermione muttered, not at all thrilled to hear that.

"I'm going to speak to Marla today to do a proper handover with her to take charge until she's healed up," Charlie told her. "I'm going to mention that Amy's giving you some grief already and that I don't want her around anymore. I'm going to suggest she be recommended for a transfer to one of the other Sanctuaries, far away from me."

"You think Marla will listen?" Hermione asked, sitting up beside him and righting her tank top before reaching down to properly put on her jeans once more.

"Maybe," he nodded. "Unless she thinks it's because I want to be fucking you while I'm your supervisor. She's by the book, Marla. And Amy knows it. I wouldn't put it past the insufferable shrew to have told her that I took you home the night before last with the intention of shagging you – even if Herc did interrupt – and she'll likely have gone running to Marla after I carried you home last night, too."

"And killing her is out of the question?" Hermione confirmed. "I'm sure that in a big Sanctuary full of dangerous dragons, I could stage an 'accident' for the bitch if she really wants to test me."

Charlie shot her a sideways grin, looking rather like he approved.

"Sometimes I forget that you've got a mean streak, Hermione Granger," he said, looking amused.

Hermione sighed, nodding her head and knowing it was one of her less desirable traits.

"I'll just…" she sighed again and rose to her feet. "Go about my business like I'm only here to learn about dragons and make sure everyone else thinks I've never even looked at you sideways."

Charlie raised one eyebrow in silent challenge and Hermione returned the look stonily, refusing to rise to the challenge. She didn't want to come right out and tell him she fancied the pants off him and she didn't want to jeopardize her position in the Sanctuary or Charlie's job.

"You alright?" he asked when she picked up her jumper and pulled it on over her head, a scowl affixing itself to her face.

"I'm fine," she nodded, plotting ways to rid the world of a certain female dragon tamer who just so happened to have fucked the man Hermione suspected she was in love with.

"You don't look it," Charlie told her, frowning and still sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched her dress.

"Well, I am," Hermione told him, feeling irrationally annoyed with him for ever having looked sideways at the sly little bitch trying to impede her plans to seduce Charlie Weasley into giving her his last name and siring her children.

She strode for the door before she could say something to indicate that she was annoyed with him for his past taste in women and before she could do something stupid, like fling herself at him.

"Hermione?" Charlie called after her, sounding very much like he knew she was very far from being fine.

Hermione stopped, bracing her hands in his bedroom doorway. She didn't turn and look at him before one wretched question slipped off her tongue, unbidden.

"Did you fuck that vile shrew in this hut, Charles?" she asked, her voice low and radiating the fizzing fury she was trying to hide.

The guilty silence from him was all the answer she needed, and Hermione gritted her teeth before she strode out of his bedroom and crossed to the Floo, leaving his hut and making a mental note never to return.


	10. Chapter 10: Hellfire

**A/N: aaaaaaannnnnnnddddd BOOM!**

 **xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Hellfire**

* * *

Charlie scrubbed his hands over his face, sighing heavily and staring down at his lap when Hermione was gone. Hell, he hadn't even thought that she might get jealous or be put out that he'd had a thing with Amy in the past and that he'd fucked the wretched bitch in this very bed. It hadn't crossed his mind for a single second, but now he couldn't stop thinking about it. To be honest, he couldn't even be sure that she was _jealous_ , or if she was just bloody furious that he'd stooped so low as to shag someone who was trying to cause her so much trouble.

Sweet fucking Circe, this wasn't going to be easy. Not only was Amy proving to be the biggest regret of his life just because she'd turned out not to be what he needed in a witch, but also because the bitch was messing with his chance at winning over the one woman he'd been more than passingly attracted to in longer than he could remember. And despite not having any fucking clue where he stood with the woman, Charlie was _almost_ hoping she was angry with his life choices for moral reasons, because he didn't think he'd be able to keep from wringing Amy's neck and burning his hut to the ground if Hermione really _was_ jealous over his past flames.

"Fucking stupid, Weasley," Charlie berated himself, standing and stripping out of his come-stained boxers before stalking down the hall and climbing into the shower. He was loath to wash Hermione's scent off his skin, but he knew he'd suffer all day if he didn't bathe after the application of the healing decoction.

He leaned against the wall of the shower under the scalding hot spray and tried not to think about the tortured and lustful way Hermione had looked at him when she'd been caught in the effects of the healing decoction. He tried not to think about the way she'd moaned his name as she'd come, lying there on the bed beneath him and grinding all that heat of her body against his. He tried not to think about how badly he wanted to feed Amy to a dragon before fucking Hermione until he couldn't move. To hell with protocol and to hell with procedure. He'd wanted the witch for bloody years and he wasn't about to let one spiteful little cunt mess it up for him because she was all hung up on him and refused to take even the bluntest of rejections seriously.

Maybe Hermione didn't want him, but Merlin's beard, if there was even a _chance_ that she did, and Amy was going to ruin it, then Charlie would have to do whatever was necessary to fuck the bitch off.

He was going to have to get mean, he realised. He knew Amy was scared of him. Most people were, once they'd seen him lose his impressive and terrifying temper, if he was being honest. Even his fellow Dragon Tamers were wary of drawing his ire and up until now, Charlie had been as nice as he could manage in his attempts to discourage Amy's continued interest in him. He was going to have to get mean, and that was going to make the workplace noxious. He might be able to blame it on being put in charge, and on it being breeding season and migration season, but he suspected that if he let the beast that was his fiery temper loose, he might not be able to contain it to only taking it out on Amy. He never had been very good at it, if he was being honest. He could control it as long as it was completely locked away, but when he let his temper fly, he was as ornery and as vicious as a rampaging dragon.

Hermione would be caught in the crossfire, and Charlie hated himself a little when he it occurred to him the more he thought about it that he was angry with her for turning up in Romania, unannounced, and messing up the delicate balance of his life. Until now he'd managed to juggle his work life and his family life by keeping them far apart and he'd managed his unfortunate and persistent crush on Hermione Granger by keeping his distance and watching from afar without putting the moves on her whenever he went home, no matter how often the thought had occurred to him. It'd been easier when she'd been dating Ron, because for all that he might've coveted her, he could never have betrayed his brother.

But Hermione and Ron had long since parted ways, and she'd stayed on Charlie's radar but largely out of his life when they'd been continents apart. Now she was on his continent, and in his Dragon Sanctuary, and on his bloody team of Dragon Tamers. She was fiery and pretty and too bloody brainy for her own good. What was more, she was fucking tough. He hadn't expected that. The girl he'd gotten to know at the Burrow during his year hiatus from his dragons following Fred's death had been a girl who was pretty and clever and kind and just always around. She'd been good for a chat, and she made a mean cup of tea and the best hangover potion he'd ever ingested, but she'd never seemed like the kind of girl who could be bucked off a dragon, burned with dragon-fire until her flesh sizzled, only to get back up and keep trying to heal that same dragon. She'd seemed to him more like a girl who would be there at the end of every day, unharmed, ready and willing to patch him up and take his mind off things. She hadn't seemed like anything all that special, and Charlie supposed it was his mistake not to have realised that even when he'd thought that she wasn't tough, he'd become interested in her anyway.

She'd caught his eye in the height of the war, at Bill's wedding, and he'd looked on in silence watching her row with Ron more than once while he'd been living at home. In that sense, he'd seen she had spirit, and even that she was unafraid of the Weasley temper, and Charlie could admit to himself that he'd been fascinated by the idea of a witch like her.

He'd been intrigued by her wild curls and ensnared by the way she wasn't afraid to get in his brother's face and call him seven kinds of stupid when he fucked up or when he spewed his temper over her. Charlie knew that though his little brother – like all of his siblings – had inherited their mother's temper, Charlie's temper came from Arthur. Not often lost, but devastating when it flew. Hermione knew how to handle the tempers of his brother and his sister, and he kind of wanted to find out how she would handle Charlie's temper, too. But Merlin's bloody bollocks, he didn't need to find out now. Not with Amy being an obstinate bitch, and not with Marla out of action.

He had enough stress on his plate stepping up to fill Marla's shoes at the beginning of migration and breeding season. Hermione's question before she'd left, and that mean streak he'd forgotten she was hiding, weren't going to bode well for their working relationship – and that was the only kind of relationship they were permitted to have, right now.

"Got to get Amy out of here," Charlie muttered to himself. "If I don't kill her when I lose my shit, Hermione definitely will."

And he expected she would. The witch he was so intrigued by was cold-hearted to the core when it came to those who got in her way or went against what she believed to be the right thing. He'd heard all about the girl whose face she'd ruined during her fifth year at school, and he'd heard about the things she'd done and the things she'd endured during the war. His little witch was far from being some goody-two-shoes and she was by no means a saint. If Amy annoyed her enough, Charlie knew that Hermione not only could but would plot the bitch's doom and she was smart enough that if anyone was going to get away with murder, it was her.

Not at all looking forward to facing the day knowing Hermione was stewing in her own rage and knowing that just like him, she was fighting the restrained sexual tension as a result of the healing decotion, Charlie twisted off the taps of the shower and dressed for the day, intent on chugging down more coffee than he usually ingested, and then digging into everything in the Sanctum alongside a stroppy Hermione Granger. He'd just have to see what he could do about catching up with Marla at lunch time to get everything sorted and to find out if Amy could be shipped out.

He doubted any of the other Tamers would object should he manage to convince Hermione he was worth a shot, and should they prove they could stand one another. Hell, for all he knew the witch he'd imagined her to be and the witch she really was might be vastly different and the longer he spent with her, the more he might come to realise that maybe they weren't as well-match as he imagined. The point was, he wanted to bloody find out and that would be a whole lot easier achieved if he got Amy out of his bloody hair. The rest of the team were unlikely to stir up any trouble about him and Hermione and he didn't think too many would be bothered by the idea of Amy being gone. Not many of them liked her any more. Not since she'd made such a bitch of herself refusing to take the hint and leave him the fuck alone, and the more time they spent with Hermione, the more they were going to see which witch was meant for him and which one was in the fucking way.

Stomping his feet into his boots once he was dressed, Charlie decided to forgo a home-cooked breakfast in favour of getting to work on time and of getting in more than one coffee for the morning.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised when he arrived at the entrance to the Sanctum to find Hermione already there, shoving her packed lunch into the fridge of the dressing sheds before she stomped across the street to greet Suzy and to get her hands on some coffee, too.

"Hell, boss," Caroline said when Charlie made to follow Hermione before the witch reappeared clutching an enormous coffee for herself and a second, just as large cup. "What? Did you two stay up all night?"

Charlie slanted a less than pleasant look at his friend and Caroline stared back at him stonily, not afraid of his temper in the morning because she didn't realise how close the beastly temper was to the surface.

"No, we fucking didn't," Charlie growled, accepting the coffee from Hermione when she shoved it into his hands without a word before she went to her locker and began ferreting around in it between long chugs on her coffee.

"You sure?" Caroline asked, frowning at the two of them before she suddenly reached out and took hold of his wrist as he lifted his coffee to his mouth.

"I wouldn't," Charlie warned, eyeballing her dangerously.

He realised that she'd spotted the stain of purple on his palms and the look she traced over his face followed by the critical way she eyed Hermione meant her eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh, hell," Caroline muttered, releasing him and stepping back. "For fuck's sake, Weasley. Really?"

Charlie glowered at her whilst skolling his coffee even though it was hot enough to scald his throat. He downed the entire thing in long pulls without taking his eyes off Caroline and she stopped looking quite so amused and began to look a little bit worried.

"For fuck's sake," she muttered again, turning away when she couldn't take any more of his staring.

"Oi!" Gerald suddenly arrived on the scene – one of the Tamers who tended to work the night-shift in the Sanctum manning the radios to make sure no calls or owls came in to indicate that trouble was afoot while everyone else slept.

"What?" Caroline asked when Charlie looked over but didn't stop skolling his coffee until the cup was drained.

"We got trouble, you lot," Gerald said. "Just got this."

He waved a scroll of parchment, upsetting the screech owl that was perched on his shoulder.

"What now?" Charlie growled.

"The Hebridean Blacks are on the move in Scotland. A bunch of them were seen flying over the Channel yesterday at dusk," Gerald said, reading the letter again.

"Headed where?" Jason asked, arriving on the tail end of the conversation.

"Here," Charlie growled. "The Sanctum was originally set-up here because most of the world's dragon population congregate here every year. They're breeding grounds are typically those mountains in the distance."

Charlie pointed away to the North.

"They'll have to pass the Ridgebacks to get there," Jason frowned, and Charlie had to remind himself that until last year, Jason has been stationed at the Egyptian Sanctuary.

"Their migration route takes them directly over Germany. I'm more worried about the Horntails than the Ridgebacks," Charlie muttered. "If they were crossing the channel at dusk yesterday they're probably somewhere near Slovakia by now. Fuck! They'll be here by nightfall."

"Exactly," Gerald said. "And I had this from the lads in Russia just yesterday."

He handed it to Charlie.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Charlie snarled, his fists clenching before he thrust the letter toward Jason.

"Razorscales have been seen flocking in large numbers toward the Ukranian border," Jason read aloud. "What, really?"

"Razorscales?" Hermione interrupted, frowning and moving closer.

Charlie watched her, his temper bubbling under the surface now not just because of the mess his personal life was becoming, but because things were about to get very messy in the world of dragons.

"Razorscales usually aren't allowed to leave Russia," Caroline explained when Charlie – too angry to explain – turned away and began digging out his flame-retardant gear that he usually only bothered with when he was sent on a retrieval mission out of the country.

"What do you mean, they're not allowed to leave Russia?" Hermione asked.

"I mean that if they attempt to leave the country in a small group or singularly, they're driven back or brought down," Caroline told the younger witch grimly.

"They're shot out of the sky?" Hermione asked, aghast, and Charlie supposed he ought to be proud of how bloody scandalized she sounded by that very idea.

"You have to understand, Granger," Jason piped up. "Razorscales are the most vicious breed of dragon known to the wizarding world. They're the biggest, the meanest, and the most dangerous dragons in the world. If they're leaving Russia during breeding season, something is probably wrong and anyone who gets in their way is going to be roasted alive."

"Wrong?" Hermione asked. "What do you mean something is probably wrong? What would be wrong to drive the beasts out of Russia?"

"This says they've been leaving en masse – in numbers too large to be brought down at the borders. They only flock like that if something is going wrong. Maybe it's too cold in Russia this year. Maybe it was too hot in the summer. Maybe a natural disaster is going to strike. No one knows, and no one will know until the cause of the evacuation is made clear."

"Well, where will they go?" Hermione asked.

"They'll come here," Charlie said. "There's something in the mountain range to the east that draws the lizards here from around the world. If the Razorscales are leaving Russia, I expect we'll get word soon that the Fireballs are migrating west, and maybe even the Australian Bladehorns will migrate here. Something big must be unsettling the lizards, which might explain yesterday's Horntail mating the Ironbelly queens. Something in the magic of the earth is going wonky and things here are going to get very messy in the coming months. Jace, that supply order you put in?"

"Yeah, boss?" Jace said.

"Triple it," Charlie told him. "Gerald, I need you to respond to the lads in Russia and let them know we're going to need reinforcements here, in addition to as many supplies as they can spare. If their dragon population is about to wreak havoc in my sanctuary, the Russian ministry is footing the bill for it. Hermione send a letter to the DRCMC. Let them know what's going on and see if you can get Kinsley's ear about reinforcement Tamers and as many supplies as he can spare. Caroline, I need you to rally the troops. Drag their sorry arses out of bed. With the Hebrideans and the Razorscales on their way, the Sanctuary is on full alert and I need every able-bodied Tamer out of bed and on the ground. We've got to get the local dragons tagged and inoculated before these other bastards get here. Jace, if you've still got the ear of anyone in Egypt or the greater African continent, I need word on their movements and any assistance they can offer."

"Got it, boss," Jace, Caroline, and Gerald all replied in unison.

Hermione was frowning at him, but Charlie didn't spare her a second glance, knowing that whatever questions she had she would ask them.

"Move," Charlie clapped his hands at all of them. "I've got sixty hungry and wounded dragons to deal with and I'll bet there will be more on the way. Jace, when you send for more supplies, order whatever you can to get some lads here and working on expanding the Sanctum. We're going to run out of room fast. Hermione, in your letter to Kingsley, I need you to request that he dedicates several teams of builders to Dragonsmeade. This place is about to get the upgrade it's sorely needed for the past ten fucking years. Caroline, when you drag the other bastards out of bed, swing by Billy Trick's office and let him know we need more enclosures, more nests, and more huts springing up all over Dragonsmeade as fast as he can build them."

"You know he's going to ask who'll be footing the bill," Caroline asked.

"Tell him the Russians are covering it," Charlie smirked. "I'll put in a word with the Russian Minister myself, and I'm sure Saskia will sweet talk her Dad into whatever we need to get by without any additional danger to her life, yeah?"

"You're going to blackmail him with Kia?" Caroline smirked.

"And the man won't say no when I lay it on thick about protecting his little girl. Get her over here as soon as you can. I need a word with her," Charlie nodded and when he stopped speaking the three Tamers he'd been commanding jumped to do his bidding.

He might not often step into the leadership role around the Sanctuary – he preferred not to because he hated the politics of kissing up to the right government agencies just to keep them afloat, but he'd always done well under pressure. Charlie almost smirked as he raked his eyes over Hermione when she eyed him, clearly waiting to see what he planned to do. Everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket if the Razorscales really were crossing the border, but it did mean one thing. His position in the Sanctuary had just elevated from temporary Head Tamer to Emergency Ministry Representative and as such he had the power to quadruple supply orders, demand the constructions of better, additional buildings, and even to demand recruits, funding, and just about anything he wanted from every Ministry body governing every continent of wizarding folk.

With dragons on the move the encounters between wizards and dragons skyrocketed, and the number of muggles who spotted dragons went through the roof. Considered nothing less than an international emergency, every Ministry would go on high alert.

"Alright, Hermione," Charlie gave her a wicked little grin. "I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked.

Charlie pointed toward a solitary toward that looked rather like something out of a Tolkien novel.

"What's that?" Hermione frowned at him, having noted the tower when she'd arrived, but forgotten to ask about it when there were other things to focus on, including the enormous Sanctum and the state of the art hospital.

"That's Headquarters," Charlie told her. "The Ministry big-wigs usually hang out there when they come to do their annual inspections. That's the place where I can send out an SOS worldwide to get this mess in hand before the world starts to burn."

"Why am I coming with you?" Hermione asked, frowning at him. "You said you needed me to write to the Ministry and to Kingsley."

"And I do," he nodded. "But we're going to do it from there. Come on."

"What about the dragons?" Hermione asked, gesturing toward the Sanctum.

"They'll keep," Charlie told her. "Come on, love. If we don't get some help here, and fast, those dragons in the Sanctum will starve to death because the few Tamers on the ground here will be flooded with call-outs and injuries the likes of which you've never seen."

"Things are going to get very bad here, aren't they?" Hermione asked quietly, falling into step beside him when he strode in the direction of the tower.

Charlie looked down at the curly-haired witch beside him, scanning his eyes over her seriously.

"You remember, during the height of the war, the amount of terror people felt?" Charlie asked. "The horror of the names read out by Fred and George on the radio daily of who was dead and who was missing and the state of things?"

Hermione nodded, gulping.

"If those Razorscales reach Romania and don't nest elsewhere, and if the Hebrideans are all on their way here – if we're about to be swamped with an international dragon migration, things here will be even more dangerous than Britain was during the war. What's worse is, the last time there was a migration on an international scale like this was when disasters like Chernobyl, and Fukushima took place. Before then, it was when devastating natural disasters were going to occur. If all the dragons are getting out of dodge, something very bad is going to happen in the world. If they're congregating here, it means whatever is happening will likely hit somewhere near the North Pacific Ocean or the Arctic Ocean, or along the coastlines of those countries that border it."

"Why would the Hebrideans come this way if that's the case?" Hermione asked, frowning up at him.

"If it hits the Arctic, it explains the Hebrideans and the Russians," Charlie shrugged. "If we don't hear anything from the Chinese or the Australians or the Africans, it might not be as bad as I'm thinking it's going to be, but I don't reckon we'll be that lucky. The declining populations and then a mass migration tend to foretell unsettled magic in the ley-lines."

"What do you need me to do?" Hermione asked him seriously. "Other than writing to Kingsley."

Charlie pulled a key from the pocket of his jacket and slotted it into the door at the base of the tower when they reached it, unlocking the entrance and nodding Hermione in ahead of him.

"You remember yesterday, when I said I'd need you to hit the ground running and to figure out the Sanctum as fast as you could?" Charlie asked of the witch quietly.

Hermione nodded, her eyes fixed on him.

"I'm going to need you to hit it sprinting and I'm going to need you to figure out how to run it as fast as possible, Hermione," he told her seriously. "We're about to get a whole lot of help, I hope, but we're about to be flung into a state of international emergency. With more people flooding this place, I don't have time for holding your hand and walking you through everything, you got me? You've got the biggest brains of anyone I've ever met, and I need you to put them to use. You're used to functioning when everything around you is chaos and I'm going to rely on that in the coming months. With Marla out of action, all of this shit is going to fall on my head and if it fucks up then I'll have to wear the consequences. You think you can handle it?"

Hermione bit her lip, looking worried by his direction.

"What if I can't?" she asked quietly as they rode the lift up the tower toward the control room at the very top.

"Then go home, Hermione," Charlie said seriously. "If you can't do it, then you'll just be in the way and you'll get yourself killed. You're a fast learner, and I think that you'll be invaluable to keeping Dragonsmeade – keeping _me_ \- afloat in the coming months, but if you think you're going to be dead weight or you're going to drop the ball, go home and be safe and pick a profession that doesn't involve bargaining with twenty tonne beasts for another few minutes of life."

"You just want me in charge of the Sanctum?" she asked. "Not out in the field."

"You're not experienced enough for the field, love," Charlie told her, striding out of the elevator and into the control room at the top. The place was deserted thanks to the early hour and the fact that there hadn't been an emergency in Dragonsmeade of this magnitude in decades.

"I can handle myself alright," Hermione protested, and Charlie spun on her fast.

He took hold of her shoulders, gripping her tight and forcing her backward step by step until her back hit one of the control desks that looked out over the Eastern Mountain range.

"You can't even fight me off, Hermione," Charlie told her in a low, dangerous voice. "You might learn to handle keeping injured and sick dragons alive when they're locked in cages and they're tired, ill, or hurting and just wanting to be left alone, but out there, in the field, the dragons want to eat you alive. You're nothing more than a tasty snack to them. They want to roast you alive and they want to gobble you up. Their horny and hungry and mad with the urge to fight for mates. The females will all be getting pregnant even as we speak and then they'll want to nest and out there in the wild there is nothing more dangerous than a female trying to build and defend her nest. Out there you've got to be on your game all the time. The others told you the Sanctum is harder because the dragons are sick and cranky and you've got to make sure they're fed and make sure the enclosures are cleaned, but if you're in there you won't be clambering up the back of a twenty tonne beast and digging into his flesh while he thinks about eating you just to jam a tracker into his skin and you won't be trying to bargain with a crazed _balaur_ in his _musth_ and driven mad to fuck everything in sight."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"You think I can't do it?" she asked, daring to defy him and Charlie almost smirked.

"I think you could, if I had time to train you," he nodded. "But right now, you're green. Fresh from behind your desk, and you might be tougher than I dreamed and braver than I thought, and you might've handled yourself like a champion with Azreal yesterday, but that was one dragon, Granger. In that cage we had one rampaging dragon to focus on. Out there, there'll be hundreds. Thousands of the fuckers, and if you're not watching the whole lot of them, three will distract you while the fourth eats you."

"So I'll learn on the job," Hermione said stubbornly, raising her chin and hold his gaze and Charlie could tell she wasn't frightened in the slightest. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. This was a witch who'd faced off against werewolves threatening to rape her and eat her. She'd endured the Cruciatus curse for hours beneath the wand of perhaps the most vicious witch to have lived in the last century and she'd survived with her brilliant mind intact. She was made of tougher stuff than to be afraid of his threats, and Charlie thought briefly about kissing her defiant lips.

"Stick close then, angel," he said quietly. "Stick real close, and pay attention to every move I make."

Hermione nodded her head and Charlie nodded his in return. When neither of them said anything else he slowly released her, his eyes lifting to a flash of movement behind her that caught his attention.

There, far in the distance, a thick glinting cloud of writhing, flapping wings and scaly bodies was slowly drawing closer and Charlie's eyes widened at their numbers before he reached past Hermione for a button on the control panel that would alert every Ministry in every wizarding community across the globe that Dragonsmeade was about to play host to the world's dragon population.

"What does that do?" Hermione asked frowning when the button lit up before the entire control room began to whir and glow with magic.

"Alerts the world of our problem," Charlie said.

"Isn't that a bit pre-emptive?" Hermione frowned at him and in response Charlie turned her in his hold, pointing in the direction of the Eastern Mountain range as their number increased to almost completely block out the eastern skyline above the mountains.

"Those are the Razorscales," Charlie told her. "And they're moving fast."

He heard Hermione gulp and felt the way she stepped back just a little until her back was pressed against his front. Charlie wondered if she was afraid.

"There are so many," she whispered, sounding awed. "And they're so big."

Charlie nodded, his eyes on the dragons as fireplaces around the room began lighting up, Ministries from across the globe making contact almost instantly.

"What is the meaning of this?" an angry wizard with a thick African accent demanded through the Floo and Charlie turned, stepping away from Hermione and facing the fireplaces.

"Who pressed the panic button?" an Australian accented voice wanted to know.

"Gentleman…. Ladies," Charlie stepped forward, holding up his hands and drawing their attention.

"Charlie?" Kingsley's deep voice asked.

'Hey Kings," Charlie winked at him. "We've got trouble, old boy."

"Trouble?" Kinglsey asked.

"Minister Shacklebolt, these are your people?" the Australian Minister demanded.

"We're governed by the British DRCMC, but stationed in Dragonsmeade Romania," Charlie said to all of them, moving forward and standing with his hands behind his back, the stance of a soldier. "Two nights about Marla Romanov – the Head of the Dragonsmeade Dragon Tamer team was taken out of action by a dragon in our Sanctum. My name is Charles Weasley and I am her second-in-command. I've contact each of you because we've just received intelligence overnight of the entire colony of Hebridean Black dragons migrating here, and yesterday we received information that the Russian Razorscales had mobbed the Urkanian border and were also on their way here. The bird must've been slow in reaching us because even as I stand here the entirety of the Razorscale colony is bearing down on Dragonsmeade. It's migrations season. It's breeding season, and if my suspicions are correct many of the colonies of dragons in your countries will shortly begin their migration here, as well. We're in a state of International Emergency, ladies and gentleman and I need your help."

"You're certain of this?" the African Minister demanded.

"Come on through as see for yourself, Afolabi," Charlie invited.

A few of the Ministers narrowed their eyes before doing just that, Kingsley among them. Hermione looked on as the Ministers from across the globe all stepped through the Floo network to congregate in the small tower control room.

"My god!" Afolabi, the African Minister, exclaimed when Charlie pointed in the direction of the Razorscales in the distance.

"As you no doubt know, this will mean that the Obliviators are about to be run off their feet and we need all the supplies and reinforcements we can get. I already have fifty-nine dragons in my Sanctum, either injured, nesting, or permanently contained for the safety of all. She only holds eighty, and I need supplies and men to upgrade the Sanctum to hold the many new dragons that are going to be housed there just as soon as those Razorscales land and start viciously attacking the other species. In addition, our Sanctum isn't built to house anything bigger than the Horntails, Ridgebacks, and Ironbellies. If any of those Razorscales need medical attention, I don't have enclosures big enough to hold them. I need Tamers on the ground, and I need huts to house them. We've also reached the point where the trackers for the European dragons are all due for replacement. Innoculations are necessary, especially with so many species congregating here that usually don't mingle."

"I had word yesterday that my Fireballs were seen taking flight en masse and heading west," the Minister for China, Pangfua, spoke up, her feminine voice seeming at odds with her powerful presence.

"I believe we're on the brink of another natural disaster," Charlie said seriously to the Ministers. "But that will be for your governments to handle. I need supplies, funding, and able bodies on the ground here and I need them now or we run a very real risk of entire breeds of dragon being wiped out permanently. Just yesterday we had a huge Horntail mating outside his species, seeking out Ironbelly females and mating with all of them. Things are headed to hell in a handbasket fast and I don't care if you haven't budgeted for it, we need your help. Now."

"You're the one who put through the order for quadruple the supplies, aren't you?" the Russian Minister for Magic asked, eyeing Charlie critically.

"I am," Charlie said. "And I have my men ordering even more as we speak to cope with the strain Dragonsmeade is about to be under. If we don't act now, the consequences will be dire."

"It's in our budget to handle this kind of mess," the Russian Minister nodded. "Housing Razorscales and knowing the damage they can cause, I have budgeted for emergencies such as this. With all of my dragons here, I have no use for Tamers at home. I will have them all pack their bags and relocate immediately."

"We can't take the strain of so many so soon without help," Charlie admitted. "There aren't enough huts to accommodate everyone, and the food-stores won't cope."

"We have budgeted for this too," the Russian Minister nodded, smiling and stroking his moustache as he regarded Charlie. "We will have men here within the hour to begin construction."

"I've already got a large team on the ground building as fast as they can," Charlie nodded. "And I told him you'd be footing his bill."

"Billy Trick, no?" the Russian Minister asked. "Yes, my Saskia keeps me well informed. You will ensure my daughter's safety and you will have your supplies and your Tamers and your huts, Charles Weasley."

"My thanks, Grigori," Charlie nodded, shaking hands with the Russian Minister and being pulled in for a backslap.

He hadn't expected anything less. With his daughter living in Dragonsmeade, Grigori spent much of his time calling on them and had kept the Sanctuary here afloat more than once only for the sake of his daughter and her love of dragons.

"We'll have as many supplies and Tamers sent over to you as possible, Charlie," Kingsley spoke up next. "Money. Food. Trackers. Medicine. You name it. No one builds a pub like the British, so I'll get some men onto it right away, yeah?"

Charlie chuckled.

"We're going to need Healers and Magi-zoologists, too," Hermione spoke up from behind him and Kingsley looked over at her.

"Of course," the Australian Minister nodded, looking her up and down. "No use sending men and building more enclosures if everyone is dropping like flies, eh? Who are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione told the man, lifting her chin proudly.

"Potter's friend?" the Australian asked.

"That's right," Kingsley nodded. "Merlin, Hermione, you picked a bad time to do your training here, didn't you?"

Hermione laughed. "I wouldn't say that," she said. "You know I love a challenge, Kingsley."

"We will send supplies, too," Afolabi spoke up after a moment, his eyes still fixed on the dragons drawing ever-closer. "Word has reached me that the Egyptian Sanctuary has been emptying of late. I fear those dragons are also headed this way."

"Thank you, Minister," Charlie said, shaking hands with each of the Ministers in turn as they pledged funding, men, and supplies to Dragonsmeade.

Hermione looked on, surprised that so many governing bodies could so quickly and so easily pledge so much to one emergency before it occurred to her that without dragons, eventually the magic in the world would fizzle out. Without them, more squibs would be born, and more of the magic that ran through the ley lines of the earth would dry out. Without dragons, the magical world would cease to exist, and no governing body needed to vote on or debate of the importance of the continued protection of dragons and those who kept them.

"Right, we will adjourn, then," Kingsley said. "And begin making the arrangements. Until accommodations to house everyone can be built, any beds you can spare will be greatly appreciated by the construction workers, I'm sure."

Charlie nodded. "I'll have everyone who can do so begin bunking in wherever they can to free up some huts."

"Good man. You're in charge here, Weasley," the Australian Minister said, clapping him on the back. "We Ministers might have the political power, but you've got the know-how when it comes to dragons so everyone we send will defer to you. Anything you need, you Floo or you get word out and we'll get it sorted. You just get these lizards under control without them killing muggles or wiping each other out, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Charlie nodded, and the Ministers began to disburse once more.

When only Grigori, Kingsley, Charlie, and Hermione remained, Charlie looked between all of them.

"How bad are things going to get, Charlie?" Kingsley asked seriously.

"Really bad," Charlie sighed. "Supplies and money and men will help, but every Tamer on the planet won't be able to keep up with this many dragons. Not with the Razorscales converging here."

"They will not give you so much trouble, I think," Grigori shook his head. "They are vicious, but my dragons they are… how you say… assured of their rank. Challengers will be quashed and nesting will take place. Maybe, with luck, the nests will survive this year."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked sharply, stepping forward a little a frown marring her brow.

"Last year in breeding season many eggs were laid, but it was so cold that most froze and did not hatch. Every year less eggs hatch and while my dragons are many, their numbers are not what they once were. No babies are being hatched. I fear that mother Russia is too harsh when they are so confined to our borders. Perhaps, this year, more eggs will be hatched and more dragons will grow."

Charlie nodded his head slowly, knowing the declining populations were a big issue.

"We'll do what we can, Grigori," Charlie promised. "Saskia works miracles in the Nursery here. Numbers will grow, I hope."

Grigori nodded, smiling proudly at the mention of his daughter's work.

"Be safe, Charles Weasley," he commanded shaking Charlie's hand and then Hermione's and then Kingsley's before he too departed with promises of supplies and men within the hour.

"Well, I'd best be off too," Kingsley sighed. "I do hope you kids will be alright here. If there's anything you need, Floo or owl me directly and we'll get it to you."

"Thanks Kings," Charlie nodded. "We need to be getting back. Emergencies like this one don't stop the lizards from getting hungry, yeah?"

Kingsley chuckled. "No, I don't suppose they do. We'll have men here within the hour to begin construction of more dwellings and upgrades to all the services and supply houses. This village will soon be a bustling city, I imagine."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders.

"I doubt it," he confessed. "It'll become a collection of Villages first, spread out across Romania close to the colonies."

Kingsley nodded and shook Charlie's hand before pulling Hermione into a hug.

"I'll be seeing you," he told them both before he left.

Charlie looked over at Hermione when they were alone once more, shooting her a grim smile. She returned the expression, her eyes straying back to the dragons bearing down upon them.

"So," she said. "What happens now?"

Charlie ran a hand through his hair. "Now we get back to work, running the Sanctuary first thing and then heading out into the field, handling whatever needs handling."

Hermione nodded, and Charlie slid his eyes over her for a long moment, weighing his options before he opened his mouth one more time.

"Since we're going to be needing all the space we can get," he began, wondering what she'd say when he made his offer. "And since we've co-habited before, and with you having spent all your nights here so far in my bed instead of yours… how do you feel about moving in with me, Hermione?"

She tore her eyes off the dragons to stare at him, blinking in shock as her mouth opened a little.

"We just… this morning…" she began, frowning at him.

Charlie held up his hands. "No one is going to pull us up on it if you move into the spare room in my place," he told her seriously. "You'll still have your own space, and it's not like we haven't lived together before, even if it was at the Burrow with everyone else. And anyway, I think we might have more on our plates to worry about than bloody Amy. She can't get your fired when we're in a state of International Emergency. We need everyone we can get. Which means I can't have her transferred, but it means we've got bigger things to focus on than her petty complaints about impropriety. I'm not suggesting you move in and start shagging me or sharing my bed every night unless you want to, but I'd rather live with you than any of the other Tamers I know, Hermione."

"Really?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

He nodded.

"I…" she frowned, looking like she wasn't sure what to say and Charlie wondered if he'd sprung it on her too soon. He _had_ just confirmed that he'd fucked Amy in his hut whole bunch and if she'd been asking because she was jealous, she was hardly going to jump at the chance to move into a house where he'd fucked another woman.

"Why don't you think about it?" Charlie said. "We've got dragons to feed and tag and inoculate today, so we can't even start thinking about having you move anywhere just yet. Think on it today, and let me know, yeah? But keep in mind that we _do_ need the space to fit in as many extra hands as we can get with all these extra lizards turning up, yeah?"

She blinked at him before nodding slowly and Charlie grinned just a little bit, thinking that his temper might be wrestled back into submission if he could convince this sexy little witch to move in with him in short order.


	11. Chapter 11: Flicker

**A/N: *Skids into the room, wild-eyed***

 ***Spots you loitering, hoping for a new chapter***

 ***knows it's been too bloody long, and that you might riot***

 ***flings the chapter at you before dashing for cover***

 **xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Let it Burn**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Flicker**

* * *

Hermione's mind was on the offer Charlie had made about having her move in with him more than it was on cleaning up dragon dung. She couldn't believe his offer. She almost couldn't _stand_ his offer. On the one hand, she'd left his hut that morning swearing to herself that she would never return. She suspected that her irrational bout of jealousy over the idea of him shagging Amy there had been a result of that concoction he'd used to heal her because, while she was positively disgusted that his tastes had once swayed toward the vile woman, she could hardly blame him for having a past.

She'd had to lecture herself in her morning shower about how she had no right to be angry with him for his past dalliances and past relationships because he had no idea she fancied him and had done for years. What was more, she'd dated his younger brother. What right did she have to be stroppy with him for having a romantic life before she'd showed up, when she'd been seeing his younger brother? As such, she knew she needed to squash down her irrationality and her jealousy. She could recognize that Amy was pretty – prettier than her, probably – and that Charlie had been here in Dragonsmeade and he'd been lonely and horny.

In that regard, she knew it was stupid to vow not to return to his hut, and she knew that would a be stupid reason to turn down his offer of cohabitation.

On the other hand, if she moved in with him, she'd be that much closer to seducing him into fancying her. His suggestions that Amy and anyone else with issues wouldn't be able to prevent her from living with him or even shagging him now that this had been declared an international emergency meant she'd be bloody barmy to turn down his offer. That being said, for all that she would love to jump him that very second and ravish him until neither of them could walk, Hermione was acutely aware of the fact that working together in such close quarters under stressful circumstances such as those they were leading into meant they might not get along so very well. What if she moved in with him and he drove her positively spare during the day, only to have to go home and share a dwelling with him in the evenings?

Worse, what if she moved in with him and started shagging him, and everything she'd imagined the two of them being fizzled out? She wasn't a fool. She'd once imagined herself becoming Mrs Hermione Granger-Weasley with the intention of marrying Ron, rather than Charlie, and look how that had turned out. What if she had the chance to get to know Charlie as he was in his place of work and his chosen place of residence, surrounded by his friends, rather than his family, and he turned out not to be as compatible with her as she hoped? What if he had a bunch of habits that drove her batty? What if that temper she knew bubbled under his skin was more than she could handle? What if he never realised she fancied him?

Worse, what if he did, but he wasn't interested in anything more that a few good shags? He was hardly known for his long-term relationships. Ron had once told her that the only steady love in Charlie's life was his dragons. What if he wasn't interested in a long-term commitment with her? What if he only wanted to shag her for as long as she was going to be around, and then wanted her to go on her way?

Merlin, what if they gave it a go and the sex was rubbish, or it was awkward, or they just couldn't get along? He was hardly an easy man to live with. She knew there was a lot to his personality that he kept under the surface. She knew he had a wicked temper that would probably surpass that of Ginny or Ron or even Molly. She knew he was a daredevil who took unnecessary risks just for the hell of it. He was more like a dragon than a human, in some ways, and Hermione didn't think she could bear the idea of living with him if they tried things on for size and it fizzled out like a flame left in the rain.

"Oi! Hermione!" Charlie called, and Hermione blinked, swivelling her gaze to fix it upon him.

She froze when she realised that in her distraction while she'd been using her wand to levitate the huge piles of dragon dung into barrels for collection, the dragon in question whose enclosure she was cleaning had awoken and was watching her curiously.

"Hello, Rhydian," Hermione greeted the enormous Welsh Green politely, watching the hulking beast and realising she was far too distracted if the large dragon had managed to get so close.

Less than five meters from her, Rhydian watched her, looking intrigued, and Hermione looked over at Charlie, wondering what she was meant to do if the dragon planned on eating her.

Snaking his head closer before taking a large step in her direction, Rhydian blew a puff of smoke in her face, dousing her with the choking substance. Hermione coughed a little.

"Good to see you too, Rhydian," Hermione said, laughing and reaching a hesitant hand out toward the dragon.

He eyed the appendage for a moment before sniffing it and Hermione really hoped he wasn't going to try and eat her.

"He can smell the decoction I put on you this morning," Charlie told her. "A lot of the ingredients come from dragon… er… parts… and he's trying to figure out why you smell like you do."

"Dragon parts?" she asked, slanting a look toward the Dragon Tamer and raising one eyebrow even as Rhydian bumped her hand with his nose, apparently inviting her to scratch and stroke him if she wished.

The raw feel of dragon magic coursing through the beast was irresistible and without really thinking too much of it, she traced her hands over his snout, smoothing her fingers over his fangs, and stroking the length of his large head to rub the spot between his eyes. He flopped down on his belly under the attention, another puff of smoke emitting from his nostrils as he closed his eyes and allowed her to stroke him.

"Yeah," Charlie said. "You… uh… might not talk to me again if I tell you what's in it."

"I might not talk to you again if you don't," she replied, walking closer to Rhydian and trailing her hands over him, going so far as to climb him just behind his ear and walking along the length of his neck, smoothing her hands over his scales as she inspected them for signs of rot. If the dragon minded, he didn't let on.

"Right… well, it's uh… one of the key ingredients is some of the remaining yolk and fluid in a dragon egg after it hatches," Charlie said. "That and… um… a little dragon blood, and little purified dragon dung… a few herbs and magical plants that mix well with those things…. And… uh..."

Hermione frowned at him.

"And what?"

"The… um… bloody hell, it's got dragon spunk in it," Charlie admitted. "That's what causes the lustfulness when it's applied to the skin."

"Do I even want to know how that's harvested?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not," Charlie admitted. "Nothing outrageous, mind. But sometimes when they mate some of the females… uh… leak."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "The same way human women do after sex if they don't clean up?""

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "Anyway, it's right dangerous trying to get close enough to that end of a horny female after she'd been drilled by her _balaur_ , but sometimes we manage it. Depending on the breed of dragon, the colour changes. That stuff I used this morning was purple because we harvest it from the Swedish Shortsnouts. The lads weren't kidding when they said Delilah was my best breeder. She'd fond of me, too, so she doesn't mind me cleaning her up every time she's mated by one of the _balaurs_."

"So, you're saying that this morning you covered me in amniotic fluid, blood, dung, herbs, and dragon ejaculate?" Hermione confirmed, raising her eyebrows at him.

Charlie actually blushed, his cheeks and his ears turning red at the accusation.

"I… well, it's mixed with other stuff, which turns it into a healing decoction. But yeah, basically," he admitted.

"And you proceeded to dry hump me on the bed, after that," Hermione went on. "Should I be worried about you with your obsession with these dragons, Charlie Weasley?"

Charlie's mouth dropped open at her accusation and Hermione giggled, smoothing her hands over Rhydian's scales some more and finding a few scales that looked like they might need some attention. They weren't yet beginning to rot, but they looked like they could turn sour if she didn't apply some antiseptic fluid to them soon.

"You… I… Blimey, Hermione!" Charlie exclaimed before he began to laugh. "Here I am, thinking you're going to tell me off for covering you with gross fluids and instead you accuse me of fancying my lizards? Bloody hell, witch."

Hermione laughed, grinning at him, pleased that some of the earlier tension between the two of them dissipated.

"Throw me that bottle of antiseptic wash, would you?" she said, still smiling. "He's got a few scales here that are starting to look a bit sour."

"You need the brush, too?" Charlie asked, grinning in return as he threw the bottle up to her.

"Not yet. Not for these ones, anyway. Do we need to change his tracker while we're here?" Hermione asked.

"Nah," Charlie shook his head. "We won't change them in dragons with scale-rot until we get them better. As long as they've got the scale rot they'll be confined here, anyway, and it's too dangerous to risk opening their healthy flesh when parts of them aren't so healthy. Don't want to spread the infection to the dermal layers or into the tissue, you know? That's how you lose a dragon. And believe me, if you think that scale rot smells and looks putrid, that's nothing compared to one who's muscles begin rotting off. That kind of death is worse even than the Pox in the lizards because the rot is such a slow-moving disease, and they're still so magically powerful that they literally just sit and rot to death because eventually their flesh and even their bones rot right under them, but we can't kill them because they're magic repels most of ours. I hope you never have to witness the horror of a rotting dragon, Hermione."

Charlie looked grim, frowning sadly and Hermione felt her heart constrict.

"There's no way to put them out of their misery in those cases? You said that when the Razorscales try to leave Russia, excepting a mass migration like today's, they're shot down?"

"Doesn't kill them," Charlie shook his head. "It's no easy thing to kill a dragon, love. No easy thing at all. The only real way to kill one is old age, disease, or death in the jaws and flames of another dragon. Isn't that right, big guy?"

Hermione watched Charlie smooth his hands over Rhydian's belly, leaning against the large beast while Hermione poured antiseptic wash over his suspicious scales. Rhydian hummed, making Hermione's whole body vibrate thanks to the power of the sound. Charlie grinned, looking up at Hermione.

"When they're shot down trying to leave Russia, they're usually badly injured – shot through the wing with weapons or spells. They break wings and legs, sometimes even tails and neck when they fall from the sky. They're often netted, if they lads see them coming with enough time to stop them. Then they're hauled off to a Sanctum like this one to heal up until their urge to leave Russia passes."

"That's awful," Hermione said. "Why aren't they allowed to leave? I know they're more vicious that some of the other dragon breeds, but surely letting a few out every now and then would be good for the population. I'm sure that cross-breeding plays a significant role in the continuation of the species."

Charlie smiled at her.

"Never known a Razorscale to crossbreed, love," he told her. "They're too big. The females would have to be desperate to accept a puny male – which most other species of dragon are considered when compared to the size of the Razors. Rhydian here would be considered an annoying runt by some of those females."

Rhydian opened his eyes and snaked his head around to glare at Charlie, not appreciating being called a runt, and Hermione laughed when the dragon headbutted the Tamer, knocking him on his arse in the dust. Charlie laughed, not bothering to try and fight the dragon off when Rhydian proceeded to drop his big heavy head into Charlie's lap, pinning him to the ground.

"And the males… they're just too big. Any female of another species would be crushed by his bulk when he tried to rut her. And if, by some miracle, they managed it, I reckon the female wouldn't be big enough to sit all the eggs and keep them warm. They all run at different temperatures, see, and the Razorscales originate from Russia. They're big and it's bloody cold up there, so they run a pretty low body temperature as a result. They spend a good portion of each year hibernating, in fact. Say a Razor mated a Fireball…. The Fireball would run way too hot and the eggs would cook, rather than Hatching. By the same token, if a Razor rutted an Ironbelly, she'd be big enough to sit them, but she'd run too cold to hatch the eggs properly. Dragon breeding is an art, Hermione. There's a lot more to it than just having two horny dragons shag. She's got to be in season, and his magic's got to be strong enough to overcome hers, and he's got to be big enough and strong enough and the temperature for those eggs has got to be just right. It's why we move the nesting females into the sanctum when we've got the room. We can help control the temperature to be perfect for that species of dragon, which means more of the eggs gestate and hatch properly, as well as keeping the female and the nest safe. Out there in the wild most batches of eggs are lucky to have half hatch. The others are squashed, stolen, or go rotten."

Hermione nodded her head slowly, having learned through her studies before coming to the Sanctuary that different temperatures and just the right circumstances were needed to ensure as many eggs as possible would hatch.

"So then, why bother keeping the Razors in Russia?" Hermione asked. "If it's not the urge to mate that has them trying to leave, what are they after?"

Charlie's mouth twisted.

"The Russians followed one, once, curious about that very question," he told her quietly as he scratched at the base of Rhydian's horns, causing the dragon to rumble happily under Hermione, once more.

"And?" Hermione asked.

"The first one they followed was hungry," Charlie told her grimly. "Hungry for the new hatchlings of Chinese Fireballs. That one bastard decimated almost an entire generation of Fireballs in a single bloody outing before the Russians got him under control. It was a political nightmare. Pangfua still hasn't forgiven Grigori for letting the Razorscale cross the border and this was almost five years ago, now."

"And they only let one cross and followed him?" Hermione confirmed.

"Another one they let through went after a Ukranian village and burned it to the ground before landing in the ashes and feasting on the human corpses," Charlie admitted in a low voice. " _That_ was a dark day in Dragon history."

Hermione paled at the very idea.

"So… the lot of them coming here?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it's going to be bad. I'm surprised we haven't already had calls coming in. I can only think that the reason for it is that they're getting settled up in the mountains and fighting for space, nesting sites, and soon, they'll fight for mates."

"Will they be a danger to everything around them?" Hermione wanted to know, looking at him seriously as she slid down from Rhydian's back and walked the short distance to where Charlie was pinned under Rhydian's enormous head.

"Yes," Charlie nodded. "You've got to remember, Hermione, they aren't just overgrown lizards. They're not pets. They're certainly nothing like migratory birds or any other species in the wizarding or the muggle world. They're extremely powerful, glorious, dangerous creatures. We might hang about here climbing all over the likes of Rhydian because he was hatched in the Sanctuary and he's been raised all his life surrounded by witches and wizards. He's used to us and while he might still take offence when certain idiots insult him, he's not representative of the truly _wild_ dragons populating the world. Some of these dragons from Russia have never seen a human before. Their colonies are high up in the mountains where it's much too cold and too dangerous for wizards to venture, most of the time. While they're here I expect everyone will be scrambling to get an estimate on their true numbers, because no one has ever seen this many all in one place."

"Will _we_ go up there?" Hermione wanted to know, taking hold of one of Rhydian's horns and beginning to pull the dragon's head to the side, trying to free Charlie who'd begun to look uncomfortable thanks to Rhydian having dozed off whilst still pinning him.

Charlie gave her a relieved grin when she managed to move Rhydian off him before she offered him her hand, helping him to his feet.

"I don't think so, Hermione," Charlie said seriously, peering down at her. "You're still new to being around the dragons. It's only your second day on the Sanctuary, love. I'd love to take you up there and show you them. There's nothing like the first time you see your first Razor up close in the wild, but this disaster going on here isn't going to leave me a whole lot of time for showing your around, love. Hell, I'm itching to go up there right now to see the whole lot of them as they keep flooding in, but I'm also conscious of the fact that after me, the next one in charge is Jace and he's not ready for something of this magnitude."

He offered her a sad smile.

"Maybe, if things cool down a bit when we've got more manpower, we'll get up there, but until then we're needed here to keep these dragons healthy. The construction is already underway to expand this old stronghold, and you better believe that we'll be filling these empty enclosures as fast as those boys can build them," Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "Come on. Let's get on with our chores and get these guys in the Sanctum handled. We still need to get out into the field this afternoon to check on my Shortsnouts and I expect we'll have call outs from the team soon. I need to oversee everyone's induction here, too, and we've got to get everyone moving in with each other so there's more room for the builders and the other Tamers that are beginning to flood in."

"Do you need me to keep going with the Sanctum this morning while you see to some of the other stuff?" she offered, frowning at him. "Or maybe to do admin-type stuff to get everyone settled in?"

"When you were just caught napping?" Charlie scoffed. "Were he any other dragon, Rhydian would've gobbled your right up while you were distracted there before. Where's your head, Hermione?"

Hermione's cheeks turned pink.

"Pondering your offer that I move in," she admitted, sighing a little when she saw his curious expression.

Charlie raised his eyebrows at her

"What's to ponder?" he wanted to know. "You've spent both nights since you got here in my bed, and the offer's only for the spare room."

Hermione hid her wince, wondering if that meant he didn't want her crawling into bed alongside him another night, or if he was trying to ease her concerns.

"You and I haven't lived in the same house in a long time, Charlie," she pointed out seriously as they finished tidying Rhydian's cage. "And when we were living together at the Burrow, there were several other people living with us. If we're working together all day long, and then having to go home and live together in the evenings, I'm concerned you'll grow tired of me very quickly. I'm hardly the easiest person to live with, and I'm sure you have your ticks, too. With the Sanctuary overrun and tensions running high, it might not be the wisest decision to be in each other's pockets every minute of every day, you know?"

"You think we'll kill each other," he surmised.

Hermione nodded.

"And I don't particularly want to destroy my friendship with you as a result," she said, trying to delicately infer that she didn't want to risk trying things with him romantically if they were going to explode by living together, either. Oh, she wanted to jump him. The man had no right to stand there looking so utterly fuckable, but she didn't want to make working with him for the coming year of her life completely awkward and frustrating by doing so if things were just going to go to shit. She hadn't spent so long planning and plotting to get herself to Dragsonmeade and into Charlie's neck of the woods just to fuck it up by shagging him a few times in the heat of the moment before letting their tempers and the stress of the job rip them apart. When she had him, she intended to make him her wizard until she was old and frail and couldn't even count all those freckles and tattoos littering his body anymore. She wanted him forever and she wouldn't risk that by coming on too strong, too soon, or by moving in with him and having things fizzle and flicker out because the stress of their work, at present, was going to drive them both spare.

Charlie traced his wild eyes over her and Hermione felt the familiar heat suffuse her slim frame, centring in her knickers and everything she'd just said seemed like a waste of oxygen. Who was she kidding? She wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone else. She'd been wanting him for years. She doubted there was much he could do that would make her stop wanting him, and moving in with him would likely be the best way to secure some kind of future between the two of them.

So why was she hesitating?

"You think a few bad moods and a few fights might makes things uncomfortable between the two of us?" he confirmed.

"I think you've got a temper I'm likely to get incredibly acquainted with in the comings months while everything here is so crazy, and that there might be times when I want to tell you to go boil your head in a cauldron. That will be awkward, given that you're currently my boss. It'll be even more awkward if you're also my housemate."

"It's true that I've got a temper," Charlie nodded his head as they exited Rhydian's enclosure, levitating the sealed barrel of dung out of the cage and leaving it outside the door where it was almost immediately collected by one of the Dung Beetle Group guys.

"Yes, well, so do I," Hermione confessed, sighing as they checked the cage of Cinderella – one of yesterday's injured females - to find her sleeping heavily inside her cage.

"This hesitation got anything to do with what happened this morning?" Charlie wanted to know as they entered the paddock. "And with what would've happened two nights ago if I hadn't been called away to deal with Herc."

Hermione almost stumbled at his address of the fact that she'd intended to seduce him that first night when her hormones had been rushing wildly at seeing him again, and that this morning they'd frotted to completion thanks to the ever-thickening sexual tension between them and the healing concoction he'd used on their wounds. Bravely seizing hold of her confidence and her courage, Hermione blurted out exactly what she was thinking.

"It'll certainly be awkward living with you if we hook up and it's rubbish," she said, shrugging her shoulders as she approached Cinderella to begin checking on her wounds.

She was so preoccupied with the dragon when she saw that Cinderella had obviously been scratching and biting at her wounds, that she didn't see the way Charlie stopped dead, his back going ramrod stiff. She also didn't see the wicked look that passed over his face as he traced his eyes over her bum when she bent over to retrieve some healing salve from her bucket, or the heated determination that filled his wild-eyed gaze as though she'd just laid down a challenge he couldn't resist.


End file.
